‘Stretch out your hand.’ He stretched it out, and his hand was restored (Mark 3: 5) … ‘Hands of Healing’, a sculpture by Shane Gilmore at Ennis Cathedral, Co Clare (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Patrick Comerford
The 40-day season of Christmas continues until Candlemas or the Feast of the Presentation (2 February). This week began with the Second Sunday of Epiphany (Epiphany II), with readings that focussed on the Wedding at Cana, the third great Epiphany theme, alongside the Visit of the Magi and the Baptism of Christ.
Today is the Fifth Day of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. The calendar of the Church of England in Common Worship today remembers Vincent of Saragossa (304), Deacon and first Martyr of Spain.
Before today begins, I am taking some quiet time this morning to give thanks, to reflect, to pray and to read in these ways:
1, today’s Gospel reading;
2, a short reflection;
3, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary;
4, the Collects and Post-Communion prayer of the day.
Signs and symbols of healing for holding in hands … in the chapel at Milton Keynes University Hospital (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Mark 3: 1-6 (NRSVA):
1 Again he entered the synagogue, and a man was there who had a withered hand. 2 They watched him to see whether he would cure him on the sabbath, so that they might accuse him. 3 And he said to the man who had the withered hand, ‘Come forward.’ 4 Then he said to them, ‘Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to kill?’ But they were silent. 5 He looked around at them with anger; he was grieved at their hardness of heart and said to the man, ‘Stretch out your hand.’ He stretched it out, and his hand was restored. 6 The Pharisees went out and immediately conspired with the Herodians against him, how to destroy him.
A doctor’s sign in Hersonissos in Crete … the healing stories in the Gospels involve physical and spiritual healing (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Today’s Reflection:
In the Gospel reading at the Eucharist yesterday (Mark 2: 23-28), we heard a debate about the detailed interpretation and application of faith and practice on the Sabbath. That continues in today’s reading (Mark 3: 1-6) with a discission about healing and the Sabbath. The story of Jesus healing a man with a withered hand on the Sabbath is found in all three synoptic Gospels (see Matthew 12: 9-13, Mark 3: 1-6; Luke 6: 6-11).
In his hymn ‘Songs of thankfulness and praise’, one of the hymns at the Sung Eucharist in Saint Olave’s Church, York, on Sunday (19 January 2025, Epiphany II), Christopher Wordsworth (1807-1885) links the three traditional Epiphany narratives of the Visit of the Magi (verse 1), the Baptism of Christ in the Jordan and the Wedding at Cana (verse 2), with the miracles of ‘making whole / palsied limbs and fainting soul’:
Manifest in making whole
palsied limbs and fainting soul;
manifest in valiant fight,
quelling all the devil’s might;
manifest in gracious will,
ever bringing good from ill:
anthems be to you addresst,
God in man made manifest.
Several Gospel passages involve controversies over healing and observing the Sabbath, including: casting out an ‘unclean spirit’ or demon, out of a man (Mark 1: 21-28; Luke 4: 31-37); healing Simon Peter’s mother-in-law (Matthew 8: 14-15; Mark 1: 29-31; Luke 4: 38-39); the controversy over grain (Matthew 12: 1-8; Mark 2: 23-28; Luke 6: 1-5); today’s story of the healing of a man with a withered hand (Matthew 12: 9-13; Mark 3: 1-6; Luke 6: 6-11); the healing of the woman in the synagogue (Luke 13: 10-16); the healing of a paralytic man (John 5: 9-18); the discussion about circumcision on the Sabbath (John 7: 22-23); and the healing of the man born blind (John 9: 1-33).
Once again, as with yesterday’s reading, we are faced today with an example of rhetorical humour on the part of Jesus. Of course the Pharisees were not opposed to doing good on the Sabbath, still less were they likely to object to healing on the Sabbath.
The word Pharisee has become a byword for hypocrisy, and this has been challenged in recent weeks by Giles Fraser in a ‘Beyond Belief’ BBC discussion with Professor Amy-Jill Levine of Vanderbilt University, co-author of The Pharisees, the Catholic theologian James Alison and Dr Stephen de Wijzeoft Manchester University.
The Pharisees were not like some judgmental evangelicals and Free Presbyterians who wanted to keep the playgrounds, parks, golf clubs, sports venues and pubs in Northern Ireland locked up and closed on Sundays. Works of necessity and works of mercy are allowed, even encouraged on the Sabbath day, even for animals. Indeed, healing is intrinsic to the sabbath.
A work of necessity readily given as an example is when the Jews decide to continue fighting in the Maccabean war even on the Sabbath (see I Maccabees 2). Healing is an act of mercy and so does not violate the Sabbath. The rabbinic tradition teaches clearly, ‘Any danger to life overrides the prohibitions of the Sabbath’ (m. Yoma 8: 6). The question here, then, is whether the man's condition is life-conditioning: could he, and Jesus, not wait until the next day?
A man with a withered hand faced the regular barrier of being perceived as ritually unclean, because he was unable on his own to carry out the ritual obligation of washing both hands on many occasions throughout the day, including before and after eating a meal with bread, before eating dipped fruit or vegetables, before prayer, after sleeping, or after touching certain parts of the body. This involved pouring water over both hands, something a man without the use of one hand could not do on his own.
Today’s reading says Jesus sees this man as he enters the synagogue, not inside the synagogue. The man is not only healed, but he can now wash both hands and enter the synagogue, taking his rightful place in the community of faith, and in the synagogue on the Sabbath. He has been restored both physically and spiritually.
Cardinal Karl Lehmann, who died in 2018, was described as the face and voice of Catholicism in Germany for over 35 years. He was the Bishop of Mainz and former Professor of Dogmatic Theology at the University of Mainz, and in the 1960s he was an assistant to Karl Rahner, the Jesuit theologian, during the Second Vatican Council.
The German theologian Professor Johanna Rahner of Tübingen University told the German weekly Die Zeit that Cardinal Karl Lehmann ‘interpreted the Church’s teaching as a seelsorger (a ‘carer of souls’ – the German word for priest) and not in the narrow, doctrinal, sense.’
I like the idea of seeing the priest or the pastor as the physician or doctor of souls. The German theological journal, Seelsorger describes itself as a ‘Journal for the Contemporary Cure of Souls,’ and the topics on pastoral care it discusses range from sexuality to post-modernity, the conscience to the use of story, vice, virtue, and baptism and the dangers and blessings of a long-term pastorate.
The soul is the deepest centre of the psyche. Problems at the level of the soul radiate out to all levels of the psyche and even the body.
The priest, the soul doctor, traces the problem to its deepest point. A hurting person should be addressed at all of those levels, but it is the soul doctor who addresses the very deepest level.
Among the Patristic writers, Saint John Chrysostom says that every priest is, as it were, the father of the whole world, and therefore should have care of all the souls to whose salvation he can co-operate by his labours. Besides, priests are appointed by God as physicians to cure every soul that is infirm. Origen has called priests ‘physicians of souls,’ while Saint Jerome calls us ‘spiritual physicians.’ Later, Saint Bonaventure asks: ‘If the physician flees from the sick, who will cure them?’
Canon 21 of the Fourth Lateran Council in 1215 drew an analogy between the physicians of the body and the physicians of the soul. This analogy between medical or physical care and spiritual or pastoral care was enthusiastically developed in mediaeval sermons and penitential literature, opening the door to many further comparisons.
The English word curate refers to a person who is charged with the care or cure (cura) of souls in a parish. In this sense, ‘curate’ correctly means a parish priest. In France, the cure is the principal priest in a parish, as is the Italian curato and the Spanish cura. But in English-speaking places, the term curate is commonly used to describe priests who are assistants to the parish priest.
However, the word curate in the 1662 Book of Common Prayer means the incumbent of a benefice, who is licensed by the bishop to the ‘cure of souls.’ The shared cure of souls is made clear by the traditional wording of the bishop’s deed of institution to a new incumbent, ‘habere curam animarum, et accipe curam tuam et meam, receive the cure of souls which is both mine and thine.’
In other words, when a parish priest begins his or her new ministry, the bishop is sharing the care of the parish — described traditionally as ‘the cure of souls’ — with the priest, but the bishop does not give it away. The 43 Canons of the Church of Ireland, listed in Chapter IX of the Constitution, refers specifically to cures rather than parishes.
The soul is just as complicated as the body, just as rich and strange and puzzling. And it needs just as much attention. That does not mean that any priest can necessarily address these soul problems. But the true soul doctor is the depth psychologist.
When we think about salvation, it is worth recalling that the English word ‘salve’ is derived from the Latin salvus, which means healing. The priest, as an alter Christus is seen as one who mends broken hearts, heals hurting souls, and applies God’s soothing balm on pained and wounded lives.
The priest truly is the ‘doctor of souls.’ Perhaps theology is the technical language of soul doctoring. But the prescription is the word and the medicine is the Eucharist, regular confession and daily prayer. The proper exercise is found in prayer, regular good deeds and acts of kindness.
The popular German word for priest means ‘carer of souls’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Today’s Prayers (Wednesday 22 January 2025):
The theme this week in ‘Pray With the World Church’, the Prayer Diary of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel), is ‘Whom Shall I Send?’ This theme was introduced on Sunday with a Programme Update by Rachael Anderson, Senior Communications and Engagement Manager, USPG.
The USPG Prayer Diary today (Wednesday 22 January 2025) invites us to pray:
Heavenly Father, as these young leaders return to their local dioceses, may the lessons they learned and the reflections they shared transform their lives and their communities.
The Collect:
Almighty God,
in Christ you make all things new:
transform the poverty of our nature by the riches of your grace,
and in the renewal of our lives
make known your heavenly glory;
through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord,
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.
The Post-Communion Prayer:
God of glory,
you nourish us with your Word
who is the bread of life:
fill us with your Holy Spirit
that through us the light of your glory
may shine in all the world.
We ask this in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord.
Additional Collect:
Eternal Lord,
our beginning and our end:
bring us with the whole creation
to your glory, hidden through past ages
and made known
in Jesus Christ our Lord.
Yesterday’s Reflection
Continued Tomorrow
Saint John Chrysostom says priests are appointed by God as physicians to cure every soul that is infirm (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition copyright © 1989, 1995 National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. http://nrsvbibles.org
Showing posts with label Priesthood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Priesthood. Show all posts
02 July 2024
Comerford profiles:
Father John Jay Comerford,
Carmelite priest and
civil rights advocate
Father John Jay Comerford is a Carmelite friar, priest and theologian who has spent almost 50 years in the priesthood
Patrick Comerford
Three members of the Comerford family in the US are in active priestly ministry in the Roman Catholic Church: Father Christopher J Comerford, in Granite City, Illinois; Father John J Comerford, living in the Carmelite Priory in Darien, Illinois, and Father Patrick Comerford, a hospital chaplain in Santa Monica, California.
Father John Jay Comerford, who now lives at the Blessed Titus Brandsma Priory in Darien, Illinois, is a Carmelite friar, priest and theologian who has spent almost 50 years in the priesthood, with a ministry that has mainly involved teaching and directing retreats.
His ministry has included 33 spent teaching at Carmelite High Schools across the US, including Tucson, Arizona, Fairbanks, Alaska and near Los Angeles. He has also been a retreat director and is a civil rights advocate.
John Jay Comerford is descended from the Co Wexford branch of the Comerford family, the Comerford family of Minooka, Illinois, and so is a distant (perhaps, even, a very distant) cousin. His ancestors emigrated from Co Wexford to America and arrived in Illinois ca 1850. They were founders of Minooka, Illinois, and bought the family farm in the Aux Sable Township, which later became part of Minooka, about 50 miles outside Chicago. They also ran the general store, the Post Office, and train station.
William Comerford (1799-1866) was born in Co Wexford and there he married Honora (Nancy) Nolan (802-1854). William and Nancy Comerford emigrated to the US with their Wexford-born son, George Comerford (1826-1891) in 1847, first settling in Rochester County, New York. In 1849, they moved with their entire family to Illinois in 1849 and bought land in the Aux Sable district of Illinois, where William farmed 560 acres in Grundy County.
Their son George Comerford (1826-1891), who was born in Co Wexford, first planned to study for the priesthood, but instead became a railroad pioneer in Illinois. He is credited with bringing the railroad to Minooka, which came into existence in 1852 when the railroad came through the area. George surveyed the Rockford and Rock Island Railroad, and settled in Minooka, Illinois, where he was the rail agent, the postmaster and a merchant. He was instrumental in establishing the Minooka post office in 1853, and served as its postmaster for nine years. The village of Minooka was incorporated in 1869.
George Comerford was also involved in building the Chicago, Rock Island and Peoria Line and became the first agent at the Minooka Depot. He built the Comerford Block in Minooka, helped build both the Catholic and Methodist churches, farmed 160 acres. He was a Democrat in his politics, and was President of the Board of Education.
George Comerford returned to visit his native Co Wexford around 1882, and died on 3 December 1891. He was the grandfather of Joseph T Comerford (1901-1979), who married Elizabeth Donahue (1904-1968), and they were the parents of two sons:
1, Joseph Thomas Comerford (1943-2021).
2, (The Revd) John Jay Comerford, OCarm.
Joseph Thomas (Joe) Comerford (1943-2021) … a lifelong pharmacist in Nebraska and Illinois
The elder son, Joseph Thomas (Joe) Comerford, was born on 22 August 1943 in Joliet, Illinois. Joe attended Saint Patrick's School and Joliet Catholic High School (1961), and studied pharmacy at Creighton University, Omaha, Nebraska (BS Pharmacy, 1966). He was a lifelong pharmacist working in Nebraska and Illinois.
He first married Sandra Clark, they returned to live to Illinois and were the parents of two sons, John and Thomas Comerford. He later moved to Humboldt, Nebraska, where he owned and run a pharmacy shop. He was a member of the local volunteer fire department, and was elected local chapter president of the Junior Chamber.
He sold his shop in 1978 and returned to Illinois. He later married his second wife Joyce Dixon-McCauley, mother of Ronda and Randall McCauley, and moved to Clarendon Hills. After Joyce died, he returned to Nebraska to be nearer to his family and lived there until he died in Omaha, Nebraska, at the age of 78 on 23 December 2021. He was buried at the Comerford plot in Saint Mary Cemetery, Minooka.
His brother Father John Jay Comerford is a Carmelite friar and priest Brandsma Priory, Darien, Illinois. He was born in Joliet, Illinois, in 1948. He has been a Carmelite for 58 years, a priest for 47 years, and has been a high school teacher for 33 years, teaching at Carmelite high schools across the US including Tucson, Arizona, Fairbanks, Alaska and near Los Angeles. He has also been associate pastor in a Mexican-American parish.
His ministry has included serving on high school retreats and six years as the chaplain of a retirement home. He is known for his advocacy of civil rights and human rights and for his interest in Broadway musicals, drama, film and history.
Father John attended Saint Patrick School (1954-1962), where he appeared in several schools plays and sang in the school choir, and Joliet Catholic High School (1962-1966), when he took part in the Selma Sympathy March on 25 March 1965 in downtown Joliet. At school, he was the executive editor of The Hilltopper yearbook, photo and copy editor of The Victory Light school newspaper, and acted in school plays.
He then studied at Mount Carmel College, Niagara Falls, Ontario (1966-1967). The centre is close to Horseshoe Falls, and the Carmelites have been there since 1875. ‘We have a winery at our monastery at Niagara Falls. We are the only the monastery in Canada with a winery,’ he says. There he professed his first vows as a Carmelite on 22 August 1968.
He then studied at Marquette University (1968-1971, BA, Speech Education and Drama, 1971). As a student, he was involved in the Marquette Players and designed and acted in theatre productions.
He taught English at Salpointe Catholic High school in Tucson, Arizona (1971-1972) and religion and English at Monroe Catholic High School, Fairbanks, Alaska (1972-1974).
He then studied theology at Washington Theological Union (1973-1977), with a concentration in church history, scripture and liturgy, and he was ordained priest at Whitefriars Hall, Washington DC, in 1977.
He taught at his old school, Joliet Catholic, from 1978 to 1988, and taught there again from 2003-2006.
During a sabbatical study year, he studied theology at the North American College, Rome, in 2006. When Pope Benedict celebrated his 79th birthday that year, Father John Jay Comerford was in Rome to wish him a happy birthday. He was among the 100 priests and deacons helping to administer Holy Communion during the Easter Mass.
After returning from Rome, he spent six years, he was the chaplain at the Carmelite Carefree Village (2006-2012). He was the Retreat Director at the Mount Carmel Spiritual Centre at Niagara Falls, Ontario, from 2012, and says it has ‘always been my favourite place on earth since I was 18 years old.’
Father John Jay Comerford returned to his hometown roots in Joliet in 2017 to mark the 40th anniversary of his ordination as priest, and celebrated Mass at his childhood neighbourhood parish, Saint Patrick’s Church.
Father Comerford has been described as ‘a living encyclopaedia’ on Joliet’s history and is fascinated by old prisons. The Joliet Prison has been featured in television shows and movies, including Prison Break and The Blues Brothers (1980), which starred John Belushi as ‘Joliet’ Jake Blues and Dan Aykroyd as Elwood Blues. He was delighted to hear how the old Joliet Prison is being turned into a tourism destination and how Joliet is promoting ‘Joliet Jake’ and the ‘Blue Brothers’ nostalgia.
A year later, when he celebrated his 70th birthday, he said: ‘I have no intention of retiring yet.’ Since 2018, he has lived at the Blessed Titus Brandsma Priory in Darien, Illinois.
The Comerford Farm in Minooka, Illinois, ca 1888 (Photograph courtesy John L Baskerville)
Patrick Comerford
Three members of the Comerford family in the US are in active priestly ministry in the Roman Catholic Church: Father Christopher J Comerford, in Granite City, Illinois; Father John J Comerford, living in the Carmelite Priory in Darien, Illinois, and Father Patrick Comerford, a hospital chaplain in Santa Monica, California.
Father John Jay Comerford, who now lives at the Blessed Titus Brandsma Priory in Darien, Illinois, is a Carmelite friar, priest and theologian who has spent almost 50 years in the priesthood, with a ministry that has mainly involved teaching and directing retreats.
His ministry has included 33 spent teaching at Carmelite High Schools across the US, including Tucson, Arizona, Fairbanks, Alaska and near Los Angeles. He has also been a retreat director and is a civil rights advocate.
John Jay Comerford is descended from the Co Wexford branch of the Comerford family, the Comerford family of Minooka, Illinois, and so is a distant (perhaps, even, a very distant) cousin. His ancestors emigrated from Co Wexford to America and arrived in Illinois ca 1850. They were founders of Minooka, Illinois, and bought the family farm in the Aux Sable Township, which later became part of Minooka, about 50 miles outside Chicago. They also ran the general store, the Post Office, and train station.
William Comerford (1799-1866) was born in Co Wexford and there he married Honora (Nancy) Nolan (802-1854). William and Nancy Comerford emigrated to the US with their Wexford-born son, George Comerford (1826-1891) in 1847, first settling in Rochester County, New York. In 1849, they moved with their entire family to Illinois in 1849 and bought land in the Aux Sable district of Illinois, where William farmed 560 acres in Grundy County.
Their son George Comerford (1826-1891), who was born in Co Wexford, first planned to study for the priesthood, but instead became a railroad pioneer in Illinois. He is credited with bringing the railroad to Minooka, which came into existence in 1852 when the railroad came through the area. George surveyed the Rockford and Rock Island Railroad, and settled in Minooka, Illinois, where he was the rail agent, the postmaster and a merchant. He was instrumental in establishing the Minooka post office in 1853, and served as its postmaster for nine years. The village of Minooka was incorporated in 1869.
George Comerford was also involved in building the Chicago, Rock Island and Peoria Line and became the first agent at the Minooka Depot. He built the Comerford Block in Minooka, helped build both the Catholic and Methodist churches, farmed 160 acres. He was a Democrat in his politics, and was President of the Board of Education.
George Comerford returned to visit his native Co Wexford around 1882, and died on 3 December 1891. He was the grandfather of Joseph T Comerford (1901-1979), who married Elizabeth Donahue (1904-1968), and they were the parents of two sons:
1, Joseph Thomas Comerford (1943-2021).
2, (The Revd) John Jay Comerford, OCarm.
Joseph Thomas (Joe) Comerford (1943-2021) … a lifelong pharmacist in Nebraska and Illinois
The elder son, Joseph Thomas (Joe) Comerford, was born on 22 August 1943 in Joliet, Illinois. Joe attended Saint Patrick's School and Joliet Catholic High School (1961), and studied pharmacy at Creighton University, Omaha, Nebraska (BS Pharmacy, 1966). He was a lifelong pharmacist working in Nebraska and Illinois.
He first married Sandra Clark, they returned to live to Illinois and were the parents of two sons, John and Thomas Comerford. He later moved to Humboldt, Nebraska, where he owned and run a pharmacy shop. He was a member of the local volunteer fire department, and was elected local chapter president of the Junior Chamber.
He sold his shop in 1978 and returned to Illinois. He later married his second wife Joyce Dixon-McCauley, mother of Ronda and Randall McCauley, and moved to Clarendon Hills. After Joyce died, he returned to Nebraska to be nearer to his family and lived there until he died in Omaha, Nebraska, at the age of 78 on 23 December 2021. He was buried at the Comerford plot in Saint Mary Cemetery, Minooka.
His brother Father John Jay Comerford is a Carmelite friar and priest Brandsma Priory, Darien, Illinois. He was born in Joliet, Illinois, in 1948. He has been a Carmelite for 58 years, a priest for 47 years, and has been a high school teacher for 33 years, teaching at Carmelite high schools across the US including Tucson, Arizona, Fairbanks, Alaska and near Los Angeles. He has also been associate pastor in a Mexican-American parish.
His ministry has included serving on high school retreats and six years as the chaplain of a retirement home. He is known for his advocacy of civil rights and human rights and for his interest in Broadway musicals, drama, film and history.
Father John attended Saint Patrick School (1954-1962), where he appeared in several schools plays and sang in the school choir, and Joliet Catholic High School (1962-1966), when he took part in the Selma Sympathy March on 25 March 1965 in downtown Joliet. At school, he was the executive editor of The Hilltopper yearbook, photo and copy editor of The Victory Light school newspaper, and acted in school plays.
He then studied at Mount Carmel College, Niagara Falls, Ontario (1966-1967). The centre is close to Horseshoe Falls, and the Carmelites have been there since 1875. ‘We have a winery at our monastery at Niagara Falls. We are the only the monastery in Canada with a winery,’ he says. There he professed his first vows as a Carmelite on 22 August 1968.
He then studied at Marquette University (1968-1971, BA, Speech Education and Drama, 1971). As a student, he was involved in the Marquette Players and designed and acted in theatre productions.
He taught English at Salpointe Catholic High school in Tucson, Arizona (1971-1972) and religion and English at Monroe Catholic High School, Fairbanks, Alaska (1972-1974).
He then studied theology at Washington Theological Union (1973-1977), with a concentration in church history, scripture and liturgy, and he was ordained priest at Whitefriars Hall, Washington DC, in 1977.
He taught at his old school, Joliet Catholic, from 1978 to 1988, and taught there again from 2003-2006.
During a sabbatical study year, he studied theology at the North American College, Rome, in 2006. When Pope Benedict celebrated his 79th birthday that year, Father John Jay Comerford was in Rome to wish him a happy birthday. He was among the 100 priests and deacons helping to administer Holy Communion during the Easter Mass.
After returning from Rome, he spent six years, he was the chaplain at the Carmelite Carefree Village (2006-2012). He was the Retreat Director at the Mount Carmel Spiritual Centre at Niagara Falls, Ontario, from 2012, and says it has ‘always been my favourite place on earth since I was 18 years old.’
Father John Jay Comerford returned to his hometown roots in Joliet in 2017 to mark the 40th anniversary of his ordination as priest, and celebrated Mass at his childhood neighbourhood parish, Saint Patrick’s Church.
Father Comerford has been described as ‘a living encyclopaedia’ on Joliet’s history and is fascinated by old prisons. The Joliet Prison has been featured in television shows and movies, including Prison Break and The Blues Brothers (1980), which starred John Belushi as ‘Joliet’ Jake Blues and Dan Aykroyd as Elwood Blues. He was delighted to hear how the old Joliet Prison is being turned into a tourism destination and how Joliet is promoting ‘Joliet Jake’ and the ‘Blue Brothers’ nostalgia.
A year later, when he celebrated his 70th birthday, he said: ‘I have no intention of retiring yet.’ Since 2018, he has lived at the Blessed Titus Brandsma Priory in Darien, Illinois.
The Comerford Farm in Minooka, Illinois, ca 1888 (Photograph courtesy John L Baskerville)
28 June 2024
Celebrating 100 years of
Geza Vermes, Jesus scholar
and Dead Sea Scrolls expert
who reclaimed his Jewish identity
Geza Vermes, Dead Sea Scrolls expert, Jesus scholar and Jewish theologian … born 100 years ago on 22 June 1924 (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Patrick Comerford
The past week has seen the 100th anniversary of the birth of Professor Geza Vermes (1924-2013), one the leading Jewish scholars in Britain in the 20th century. He was the first Oxford Professor of Jewish Studies, and one of the world’s leading authorities on the Dead Sea Scrolls, the origins of Christianity, and the Jewish culture and identity of Jesus.
He was born into an assimilated Jewish family, but when he was six his parents converted to Catholicism he was baptised. He survived the Holocaust, and his eventful life later included ordination to the priesthood, a return to Judaism, appointment to a university chair at Oxford, and a voluminous output on the Dead Sea Scroll and on the Jewish identity of the historical Jesus.
Geza Vermes was born in Makó, Hungary, 100 years ago last Saturday, on 22 June 1924, and died 11 years ago at the age of 88 on 8 May 2013. The Vermes family was of Jewish background but had given up religious practice by the mid-19th century. His mother Terézia (Riesz) was a schoolteacher; his father Erno was a journalist and poet who was close to the leading Hungarian intellectuals of the day.
When the family moved to Gyula, his parents converted to Catholicism, and he was six when all three were baptised. Referring to his parents’ conversion, Geza Vermes later said it was a way to escape from the rise in antisemitism across Europe, yet his mother took their conversion seriously and became a devout Catholic.
Geza Vermes attended a Catholic primary school, and when he finished his Catholic secondary school he considered becoming a priest. He was turned down by the Jesuits, but was accepted by the Diocese of Nagyvárad. At the age of 18, he entered the seminary at Szatmárnémeti in north-east Hungary (now Satu Mare in Romania) in 1942 to prepare for ordination. The move would save his life.
Nazi Germany invaded Hungary on 19 March 1944, and within just 52 days, between May and July, 440,000 Jews were deported to Auschwitz. Terézia and Erno Vermes were murdered in the Holocaust but their son never learned when, where or how. He remained hidden by the Church until Russian troops liberated Budapest on Christmas Eve 1944.
He resumed his studies for the priesthood, but an attempt to join the Dominicans was rebuffed. Instead he joined the Order of the Fathers of Notre-Dame de Sion, and entered their house in Leuven, Belgium, in 1948, and was ordained in 1950. At the Catholic University of Leuven, he specialised in Oriental history, civilisations and languages and received post-graduate degrees in theology and philosophy. He received his doctorate in theology in 1952 with the first dissertation written on the Dead Sea Scrolls and their historical framework.
In 1947, an Arab shepherd had chanced upon the first scrolls – texts written in ancient Hebrew and its sister language Aramaic – in a cave in the cliffs at Qumran by the shore of the Dead Sea. These were published rapidly, but reports kept circulating that more caves containing more manuscripts were being found.
With his careful analysis, Geza Vermes argued that the Jewish sect behind the scrolls originated at the time of the Maccabean crisis in the mid-second century BCE.
After completing his doctorate, Vermes was moved from Leuven to the community’s house in Paris. There he studied under the French Jewish scholar Georges Vajda, a graduate of the Rabbinical Seminary of Budapest, and Renée Bloch introduced him to the field of Midrash or Jewish Biblical commentary. He worked closely with Paul Demann, who also had Hungarian Jewish origins. Together they challenged antisemitism in Catholic education and ritual of the time. The Second Vatican Council would later accept many of the theological arguments by Vermes, Demann and Bloch.
On a visit to Britain in 1955, a mutual friend introduced him to Pamela Hobson Curle, a poet and a scholar of the Jewish philosopher Martin Buber. They fell in love, but Pam was then married to Adam Curle (1906-2006), a professor of education and psychology at Exeter University and later a Quaker peace activist, and she was the mother of two young daughters, while Geza was still a Catholic priest.
Pam separated from her husband, Geza left the Fathers of Sion and took up a teaching post in 1957 at the University of Newcastle, where he taught Biblical Hebrew, and they married in 1958. They continued to collaborate in academic work and writing until she died in 1993.
He enhanced his scholarly reputation with Scripture and Tradition (1961), a seminal study of early Jewish bible commentary. As one of the first scholars to examine the Dead Sea Scrolls, he completed the standard English translation, The Dead Sea Scrolls in English (1962). It became a best-seller and made him a household name. It became his best-known work, and was revised later and much augmented.
He joined the Faculty of Oriental Studies at the University of Oxford in 1965, when he was appointed Reader in Jewish Studies. Some members of the Jewish community opposed his appointment, but he was supported by Oxford luminaries such as David Daube (1909-1999), then Regius Professor of Civil Law and known for his work in Biblical law.
Vermes later embraced his Jewish identity, and in 1970 he reconverted to Judaism as a liberal Jew, and became a member of the Liberal Jewish Synagogue in North London.
He told the Jewish Chronicle he considered himself ‘someone who belongs to Judaism without practising it and who has a great respect for certain teachings of Christianity.’ In an interview many years later, he said: ‘In fact, I never was anything but a Jew with a temporary sort of outer vestment. I realised I ought to recognise my genuine identity.’
He threw himself into college life as a Fellow of the newly founded Iffley College, which metamorphosed within a year into Wolfson College under the presidency of Isaiah Berlin. His achievements in what he described as ‘the wonderland of Oxford’ were extensive: he taught modules on the Mishnah, he was the editor of the Journal of Jewish Studies from 1971 until his death, turning it into one of the foremost in its field.
Vermes published Jesus the Jew: A historian’s reading of the Gospels in 1973, a controversial book that secured his enduring status as a public intellectual. It was one of the earliest of his many studies of Jesus and the origins of Christianity, and he helped launch the new quest for the historical Jesus.
He became one of the most important voices in contemporary Jesus research, and was described as the greatest Jesus scholar of his time. In Jesus the Jew, he describes Jesus as a thoroughly Jewish Galilean charismatic. In The Gospel of Jesus the Jew (1981), he examines Jewish parallels to Jesus’s teaching.
These were followed by Jesus and the World of Judaism (1983) and The Religion of Jesus the Jew (1993), The Changing Faces of Jesus (2000), which I reviewed for The Irish Times in 2000, The Authentic Gospel of Jesus (2003), and Jesus: Nativity, Passion, Resurrection (2010). In Christian Beginnings: From Nazareth to Nicaea (ad 30–325) (2012), he traces the evolution of the figure of Jesus from Jewish charismatic in the synoptic Gospels to equality with God in the Council of Nicea in 325 CE.
His work on Jesus focused principally on the Jewishness of the historical Jesus, within the broader context of the narrative scope of Jewish history and theology, while questioning and challenging the basis of the Christian doctrine on Jesus.
Previously, New Testament scholars had struggled to deal adequately with the Jewishness of Jesus. For Vermes, Jesus the Jew was inescapably Jesus the Galilean Jew. He argued that Galilee had a distinctive ethos that made Judaism there different from Judaism in Judaea or in the Diaspora.
He argued that the Jesus of the Synoptic Gospels overlapped with portraits of Galilean contemporaries preserved in rabbinic tradition, resembling them in character and behaviour, but outstripping them in eloquence.
He wrote that the Gospel image of Jesus must be inserted into the historical canvas of Palestine in the first century CE, with the help of the works of Flavius Josephus, the Dead Sea Scrolls and early rabbinic literature. He believed the historical Jesus can be retrieved only within the context of first-century Galilean Judaism. For example, he pointed to the way the word ‘carpenter’ can be used in the Talmud for a very learned man, and suggested the New Testament description of Joseph as a carpenter could indicate he was wise and literate in the Torah.
With Fergus Millar and Martin Goodman, Vermes substantially revised Emil Schurer’s three-volume work, The History of the Jewish People in the Age of Jesus Christ over a period of 27 years.
The Oxford Centre for Hebrew and Jewish Studies … Geza Vermes directed the Oxford Forum for Qumran Research (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Geza Vermes became the first Oxford Professor of Jewish Studies in 1989 before he retired in 1991. He was one of the founding Iffley Fellows at Wolfson College, and directed the Oxford Forum for Qumran Research at the Oxford Centre for Hebrew and Jewish Studies. He was also a member of the academic council of Leo Baeck College.
He helped build up Jewish studies as an academic discipline in Oxford. He inspired the creation of the British Association for Jewish Studies in 1975 and the European Association for Jewish Studies in 1981 and was the founding president of both. He attracted a group of talented students to work with him, many of whom became scholars of distinction.
He continued to work on the Dead Sea Scrolls, and thanks to his persistence access to the unpublished scrolls was granted to interested scholars in 1991. He edited and with Philip Alexander of Manchester, his first doctoral student at Oxford, published the Cave 4 fragments of the Dead Sea Sect’s rule-book, the so-called Community Rule. It was published as Discoveries in the Judaean Desert XXVI in 1998.
His An Introduction to the Complete Dead Sea Scrolls, revised edition (2000), is a study of the collection at Qumran.
He was interviewed on Desert Island Discs in June 2000, and the one disc he chose to take to his desert island was Bach’s St Matthew Passion. His deeply felt comments on the recitative ‘Now from the sixth hour’ led to a cameo appearance some months later on Songs of Praise.
In 2004, when journalists from The Guardian invited him to a press preview of Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ to judge its authenticity, he chortled derisively, ‘It’s quite obvious that none of the actors could speak Aramaic.’ As one Guardian journalist put it, Vermes ‘knew hokum when he saw it.’
Penguin Books celebrated the golden jubilee of The Dead Sea Scrolls in English at Wolfson College, Oxford, on 23 January 2012. The book has sold half-a-million copies worldwide, and a 50th anniversary edition was published in the Penguin Classics series.
He was a Professor Emeritus of Jewish Studies and Emeritus Fellow of Wolfson College, Oxford, and he continued to teach at the Oriental Institute in Oxford until he died.
He had a doctorate from Oxford (DLitt 1988) and honorary doctorates from many universities. He was a Fellow of the British Academy and a Fellow of the European Academy of Arts, Sciences and Humanities.
Pamela died in 1993, and in 1996 he married Margaret Unarska, a Polish scientist whom he and Pam had known for years. Geza Vermes died 11 years ago on 8 May 2013 at the age of 88.
May his memory be a blessing, זיכרונו לברכה
Shabbat Shalom, שבת שלום
Penguin Books celebrated the golden jubilee of ‘The Dead Sea Scrolls in English’ at Wolfson College in 2012 … Geza Vermes was a Fellow of Wolfson College (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Patrick Comerford
The past week has seen the 100th anniversary of the birth of Professor Geza Vermes (1924-2013), one the leading Jewish scholars in Britain in the 20th century. He was the first Oxford Professor of Jewish Studies, and one of the world’s leading authorities on the Dead Sea Scrolls, the origins of Christianity, and the Jewish culture and identity of Jesus.
He was born into an assimilated Jewish family, but when he was six his parents converted to Catholicism he was baptised. He survived the Holocaust, and his eventful life later included ordination to the priesthood, a return to Judaism, appointment to a university chair at Oxford, and a voluminous output on the Dead Sea Scroll and on the Jewish identity of the historical Jesus.
Geza Vermes was born in Makó, Hungary, 100 years ago last Saturday, on 22 June 1924, and died 11 years ago at the age of 88 on 8 May 2013. The Vermes family was of Jewish background but had given up religious practice by the mid-19th century. His mother Terézia (Riesz) was a schoolteacher; his father Erno was a journalist and poet who was close to the leading Hungarian intellectuals of the day.
When the family moved to Gyula, his parents converted to Catholicism, and he was six when all three were baptised. Referring to his parents’ conversion, Geza Vermes later said it was a way to escape from the rise in antisemitism across Europe, yet his mother took their conversion seriously and became a devout Catholic.
Geza Vermes attended a Catholic primary school, and when he finished his Catholic secondary school he considered becoming a priest. He was turned down by the Jesuits, but was accepted by the Diocese of Nagyvárad. At the age of 18, he entered the seminary at Szatmárnémeti in north-east Hungary (now Satu Mare in Romania) in 1942 to prepare for ordination. The move would save his life.
Nazi Germany invaded Hungary on 19 March 1944, and within just 52 days, between May and July, 440,000 Jews were deported to Auschwitz. Terézia and Erno Vermes were murdered in the Holocaust but their son never learned when, where or how. He remained hidden by the Church until Russian troops liberated Budapest on Christmas Eve 1944.
He resumed his studies for the priesthood, but an attempt to join the Dominicans was rebuffed. Instead he joined the Order of the Fathers of Notre-Dame de Sion, and entered their house in Leuven, Belgium, in 1948, and was ordained in 1950. At the Catholic University of Leuven, he specialised in Oriental history, civilisations and languages and received post-graduate degrees in theology and philosophy. He received his doctorate in theology in 1952 with the first dissertation written on the Dead Sea Scrolls and their historical framework.
In 1947, an Arab shepherd had chanced upon the first scrolls – texts written in ancient Hebrew and its sister language Aramaic – in a cave in the cliffs at Qumran by the shore of the Dead Sea. These were published rapidly, but reports kept circulating that more caves containing more manuscripts were being found.
With his careful analysis, Geza Vermes argued that the Jewish sect behind the scrolls originated at the time of the Maccabean crisis in the mid-second century BCE.
After completing his doctorate, Vermes was moved from Leuven to the community’s house in Paris. There he studied under the French Jewish scholar Georges Vajda, a graduate of the Rabbinical Seminary of Budapest, and Renée Bloch introduced him to the field of Midrash or Jewish Biblical commentary. He worked closely with Paul Demann, who also had Hungarian Jewish origins. Together they challenged antisemitism in Catholic education and ritual of the time. The Second Vatican Council would later accept many of the theological arguments by Vermes, Demann and Bloch.
On a visit to Britain in 1955, a mutual friend introduced him to Pamela Hobson Curle, a poet and a scholar of the Jewish philosopher Martin Buber. They fell in love, but Pam was then married to Adam Curle (1906-2006), a professor of education and psychology at Exeter University and later a Quaker peace activist, and she was the mother of two young daughters, while Geza was still a Catholic priest.
Pam separated from her husband, Geza left the Fathers of Sion and took up a teaching post in 1957 at the University of Newcastle, where he taught Biblical Hebrew, and they married in 1958. They continued to collaborate in academic work and writing until she died in 1993.
He enhanced his scholarly reputation with Scripture and Tradition (1961), a seminal study of early Jewish bible commentary. As one of the first scholars to examine the Dead Sea Scrolls, he completed the standard English translation, The Dead Sea Scrolls in English (1962). It became a best-seller and made him a household name. It became his best-known work, and was revised later and much augmented.
He joined the Faculty of Oriental Studies at the University of Oxford in 1965, when he was appointed Reader in Jewish Studies. Some members of the Jewish community opposed his appointment, but he was supported by Oxford luminaries such as David Daube (1909-1999), then Regius Professor of Civil Law and known for his work in Biblical law.
Vermes later embraced his Jewish identity, and in 1970 he reconverted to Judaism as a liberal Jew, and became a member of the Liberal Jewish Synagogue in North London.
He told the Jewish Chronicle he considered himself ‘someone who belongs to Judaism without practising it and who has a great respect for certain teachings of Christianity.’ In an interview many years later, he said: ‘In fact, I never was anything but a Jew with a temporary sort of outer vestment. I realised I ought to recognise my genuine identity.’
He threw himself into college life as a Fellow of the newly founded Iffley College, which metamorphosed within a year into Wolfson College under the presidency of Isaiah Berlin. His achievements in what he described as ‘the wonderland of Oxford’ were extensive: he taught modules on the Mishnah, he was the editor of the Journal of Jewish Studies from 1971 until his death, turning it into one of the foremost in its field.
Vermes published Jesus the Jew: A historian’s reading of the Gospels in 1973, a controversial book that secured his enduring status as a public intellectual. It was one of the earliest of his many studies of Jesus and the origins of Christianity, and he helped launch the new quest for the historical Jesus.
He became one of the most important voices in contemporary Jesus research, and was described as the greatest Jesus scholar of his time. In Jesus the Jew, he describes Jesus as a thoroughly Jewish Galilean charismatic. In The Gospel of Jesus the Jew (1981), he examines Jewish parallels to Jesus’s teaching.
These were followed by Jesus and the World of Judaism (1983) and The Religion of Jesus the Jew (1993), The Changing Faces of Jesus (2000), which I reviewed for The Irish Times in 2000, The Authentic Gospel of Jesus (2003), and Jesus: Nativity, Passion, Resurrection (2010). In Christian Beginnings: From Nazareth to Nicaea (ad 30–325) (2012), he traces the evolution of the figure of Jesus from Jewish charismatic in the synoptic Gospels to equality with God in the Council of Nicea in 325 CE.
His work on Jesus focused principally on the Jewishness of the historical Jesus, within the broader context of the narrative scope of Jewish history and theology, while questioning and challenging the basis of the Christian doctrine on Jesus.
Previously, New Testament scholars had struggled to deal adequately with the Jewishness of Jesus. For Vermes, Jesus the Jew was inescapably Jesus the Galilean Jew. He argued that Galilee had a distinctive ethos that made Judaism there different from Judaism in Judaea or in the Diaspora.
He argued that the Jesus of the Synoptic Gospels overlapped with portraits of Galilean contemporaries preserved in rabbinic tradition, resembling them in character and behaviour, but outstripping them in eloquence.
He wrote that the Gospel image of Jesus must be inserted into the historical canvas of Palestine in the first century CE, with the help of the works of Flavius Josephus, the Dead Sea Scrolls and early rabbinic literature. He believed the historical Jesus can be retrieved only within the context of first-century Galilean Judaism. For example, he pointed to the way the word ‘carpenter’ can be used in the Talmud for a very learned man, and suggested the New Testament description of Joseph as a carpenter could indicate he was wise and literate in the Torah.
With Fergus Millar and Martin Goodman, Vermes substantially revised Emil Schurer’s three-volume work, The History of the Jewish People in the Age of Jesus Christ over a period of 27 years.
The Oxford Centre for Hebrew and Jewish Studies … Geza Vermes directed the Oxford Forum for Qumran Research (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Geza Vermes became the first Oxford Professor of Jewish Studies in 1989 before he retired in 1991. He was one of the founding Iffley Fellows at Wolfson College, and directed the Oxford Forum for Qumran Research at the Oxford Centre for Hebrew and Jewish Studies. He was also a member of the academic council of Leo Baeck College.
He helped build up Jewish studies as an academic discipline in Oxford. He inspired the creation of the British Association for Jewish Studies in 1975 and the European Association for Jewish Studies in 1981 and was the founding president of both. He attracted a group of talented students to work with him, many of whom became scholars of distinction.
He continued to work on the Dead Sea Scrolls, and thanks to his persistence access to the unpublished scrolls was granted to interested scholars in 1991. He edited and with Philip Alexander of Manchester, his first doctoral student at Oxford, published the Cave 4 fragments of the Dead Sea Sect’s rule-book, the so-called Community Rule. It was published as Discoveries in the Judaean Desert XXVI in 1998.
His An Introduction to the Complete Dead Sea Scrolls, revised edition (2000), is a study of the collection at Qumran.
He was interviewed on Desert Island Discs in June 2000, and the one disc he chose to take to his desert island was Bach’s St Matthew Passion. His deeply felt comments on the recitative ‘Now from the sixth hour’ led to a cameo appearance some months later on Songs of Praise.
In 2004, when journalists from The Guardian invited him to a press preview of Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ to judge its authenticity, he chortled derisively, ‘It’s quite obvious that none of the actors could speak Aramaic.’ As one Guardian journalist put it, Vermes ‘knew hokum when he saw it.’
Penguin Books celebrated the golden jubilee of The Dead Sea Scrolls in English at Wolfson College, Oxford, on 23 January 2012. The book has sold half-a-million copies worldwide, and a 50th anniversary edition was published in the Penguin Classics series.
He was a Professor Emeritus of Jewish Studies and Emeritus Fellow of Wolfson College, Oxford, and he continued to teach at the Oriental Institute in Oxford until he died.
He had a doctorate from Oxford (DLitt 1988) and honorary doctorates from many universities. He was a Fellow of the British Academy and a Fellow of the European Academy of Arts, Sciences and Humanities.
Pamela died in 1993, and in 1996 he married Margaret Unarska, a Polish scientist whom he and Pam had known for years. Geza Vermes died 11 years ago on 8 May 2013 at the age of 88.
May his memory be a blessing, זיכרונו לברכה
Shabbat Shalom, שבת שלום
Penguin Books celebrated the golden jubilee of ‘The Dead Sea Scrolls in English’ at Wolfson College in 2012 … Geza Vermes was a Fellow of Wolfson College (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
24 June 2024
A day to reflect on
23 years of priesthood
and a journey that began
in Lichfield 53 years ago
The Chapel and the Hospital of Saint John Baptist without the Barrs, Lichfield … recalling a journey that continues 53 years later (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2024)
Patrick Comerford
Today is the Feast of the Birthday of Saint John the Baptist (24 June 2024). I have been back in Lichfield today where, throughout the day, I have been remembering that I was ordained priest 23 years ago on this day, 24 June 2001, and that tomorrow is the anniversary of the day I was ordained deacon 24 years ago (25 June 2000).
I have reflected throughout this day on these 24 years of ordained ministry, giving thanks, praying, reading, thinking, walking and giving thanks.
I was ordained priest 23 years ago today, on the Feast of the Birth of Saint John the Baptist [24 June 2001], and deacon 24 years ago tomorrow, on 25 June 2000.
With Archbishop Walton Empey at my ordination as priest in Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin, on 24 June 2001, and (from left) the Revd Tim Close and the Revd Avril Bennett (Photograph: Valerie Jones, 2001)
Bishops, in the charge to priests at their ordination, call us to ‘preach the Word and to minister his (God’s) holy sacraments.’ But the bishop also reminds us to be ‘faithful in visiting the sick, in caring for the poor and needy, and in helping the oppressed,’ to ‘promote unity, peace, and love,’ to share ‘in a common witness in the world’ and ‘in Christ’s work of reconciliation,’ to ‘search for God’s children in the wilderness of this world’s temptations.’
These charges remain a sacred commitment for life, even after a priest retires from parish ministry. I retired from full-time ministry over two ago (31 March 2022) after my stroke that year, and I am still in the process of seeking Permission to Officiate (PTO). But I shall always remain a priest.
As I reflected today on the anniversaries of my ordination, I recalled too how my path to ordination began here in Lichfield 53 years ago when I was a 19-year-old, following very personal and special experiences in the chapel dedicated to Saint John the Baptist – the Chapel of Saint John’s Hospital, Lichfield – and in Lichfield Cathedral, both of which I return to constantly.
It was the summer of 1971, and although I was training to be a chartered surveyor with Jones Lang Wootton and the College of Estate Management at Reading University, I was also trying to become a freelance journalist, contributing features to the Lichfield Mercury, the Rugeley Mercury and the Tamworth Herald.
Late one sunny Thursday afternoon, after a few days traipsing along Wenlock Edge and through Shropshire, and staying at Wilderhope Manor and in Shrewsbury, I had returned to Lichfield.
I was walking from Birmingham Road into the centre of Lichfield, and I was more interested in an evening’s entertainment than prayer or religious life when I stumbled into that chapel out of curiosity. Not because I wanted to see the inside of an old church or chapel, but because I was attracted by the architectural curiosity of the outside of the building facing onto the street, with its Tudor chimney stacks and its Gothic chapel.
I still remember lifting the latch, and stepping down into the chapel. It was late in the afternoon, so there was no light streaming through the East Window. But as I turned towards the lectern, I was filled in one rush with the sensation of the light and the love of God.
This is not a normal experience for a young 19-year-old … certainly not for one who is focussing on an active social night later on, or on rugby and cricket in the weekend ahead.
But it was – and still is – a real and gripping moment. I have talked about this as my ‘self-defining moment in life.’ It still remains as a lived, living moment.
Waiting for the mid-day Eucharist in Lichfield Cathedral this afternoon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2024)
My first reaction was to make my way on down John Street, up Bird Street and Beacon Street and into the Cathedral Close and Lichfield Cathedral. There I slipped into the choir stalls, just in time for Choral Evensong.
It was a tranquil and an exhilarating experience, all at once. But as I was leaving, a residentiary canon shook my hand … I think he was Canon John Yates (1925-2008), then the Principal of Lichfield Theological College (1966-1972) and later Bishop of Gloucester and Bishop at Lambeth. He amusingly asked me whether a young man like me had decided to start going back to church because I was thinking of ordination.
All that in one day, on that one summer afternoon.
The west front of Lichfield Cathedral this afternoon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2024)
However, I took the scenic route to ordination. I was inspired by the story of Gonville ffrench-Beytagh (1912-1991), which was beginning to unfold at the time. He was then the Dean of Saint Mary’s Cathedral, Johannesburg, and facing trial when he opened his doors to black protesters who were being rhino-whipped by South African apartheid police on the steps of his cathedral.
My new-found adult faith led me to a path of social activism, campaigning on human rights, apartheid, the arms race, and issues of war and peace. Meanwhile, I moved on in journalism, first to the Wexford People and eventually becoming Foreign Desk Editor of The Irish Times.
While I was working as a journalist, I also completed my degrees in theology, at the Irish School of Ecumenics and Trinity College Dublin in 1984 and at the Kimmage Mission Institute and Maynooth in 1987. In the back of my mind, that startling choice I was confronted with after evensong in Lichfield Cathedral 53 years ago was gnawing away in the back of my mind.
Letters of ordination as priest by Archbishop Walton Empey
Of course, I was on the scenic route to ordination. A long and scenic route, from the age of 19 to the age of 48 … almost 30 years: I returned to study theology at the Church of Ireland Theological College (CITC, now CITI) in 1999, I was ordained deacon on 25 June 2000 and I was ordained priest on 24 June 2001, the Feast of the Birth of Saint John the Baptist.
Since then, my ordained ministry has included two years as an NSM curate in Whitechurch Parish, Rathfarnham (2000-2002), while I continued to work as Foreign Desk Editor of The Irish Times; four years working with mission agencies and as a part-time lecturer in the Church of Ireland Theological College (2002-2006); 11 years on the staff of the Church of Ireland Theological College or Institute as Director of Spiritual Formation, college chaplain, and then Lecturer in Anglicanism, Liturgy, Church History (2006-2017), when I was also an adjunct assistant professor in Trinity College Dublin (2011-2017) and a canon of Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin (2008-2017); and five years in west Limerick and north Kerry in the Diocese of Limerick and Killaloe (now Tuam, Limerick and Killaloe) as priest-in-charge of the Rathkeale and Kilnaughtin Group of Parishes, Precentor of Saint Mary's Cathedral, Limerick, Saint Flannan’s Cathedral, Killaloe, Co Clare and Saint Brendan’s Cathedral, Clonfert, Co Galway, and Director for Education and Training (2017-2022).
That ministry also included school and hospital chaplaincy, membership of the General Synod and various church commissions and committees, mission agency visits to Egypt, China, Hong Kong, Italy, the Vatican, Romania, Hungary and Finland, and six years as a trustee of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel). There were additional studies at the Institute for Orthodox Christian Studies and Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge, and the Institutum Liturgicum, based at the Benedictine Study and Arts Centre in Ealing Abbey and KU Leuven.
Archbishop Walton Empey’s inscription on the Bible he gave to me on my ordination to the priesthood in 2001
I had started coming to Lichfield as a teenager because of family connections with the area around Lichfield and Tamworth. The traditions of the chapel in Saint John's Chapel subtly grew on me and became my own personal expression of Anglicanism, while and the liturgical traditions of Lichfield Cathedral nurtured my own liturgical spirituality.
That bright summer evening left me open to the world, with all its beauty, all its problems and its promises.
The chapel in Saint John’s Hospital and Lichfield Cathedral remain my twin spiritual homes, and I returned to both again today (24 June 2024).
As priests, we normally celebrate the anniversary of our ordination to the priesthood and reflect on it sacramentally. However, I still await PTO in a new diocese and I have found unexpected restrictions on celebrating this meaningful day.
This continues to be trying at a personal level, and I held these emotions and feelings in my heart at the mid-day Eucharist and Evening Prayer in Lichfield Cathedral today, as I knelt in prayer in the chapel of Saint John’s Hospital earlier in the day, and at the Parish Eucharist in Saint Mary and Saint Giles Church in Stony Stratford yesterday (23 June 2024).
I remembered too how I was in Holy Trinity Church, Old Wolverton, on this day last year (24 June 2023) when the Revd Francesca Vernon celebrated her first Mass following her ordination.
It has been a day for walks around Stowe Pool and Minster Pool, through the streets of Lichfield, along Beacon Street, and a walk out into the countryside along Cross in Hand Lane after a pleasant late lunch in the Hedgehog Vintage Inn at the corner of Stafford Road.
When I get home to Stony Stratford later this evening, I shall have a quiet celebration of the Eucharist. This has been a day to remind myself that I remain a priest forever, and to remind myself where this journey or pilgrimage began 53 years ago.
Saint John the Baptist depicted in a window in the Chapel of Saint John’s Hospital, Lichfield (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2024)
Patrick Comerford
Today is the Feast of the Birthday of Saint John the Baptist (24 June 2024). I have been back in Lichfield today where, throughout the day, I have been remembering that I was ordained priest 23 years ago on this day, 24 June 2001, and that tomorrow is the anniversary of the day I was ordained deacon 24 years ago (25 June 2000).
I have reflected throughout this day on these 24 years of ordained ministry, giving thanks, praying, reading, thinking, walking and giving thanks.
I was ordained priest 23 years ago today, on the Feast of the Birth of Saint John the Baptist [24 June 2001], and deacon 24 years ago tomorrow, on 25 June 2000.
With Archbishop Walton Empey at my ordination as priest in Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin, on 24 June 2001, and (from left) the Revd Tim Close and the Revd Avril Bennett (Photograph: Valerie Jones, 2001)
Bishops, in the charge to priests at their ordination, call us to ‘preach the Word and to minister his (God’s) holy sacraments.’ But the bishop also reminds us to be ‘faithful in visiting the sick, in caring for the poor and needy, and in helping the oppressed,’ to ‘promote unity, peace, and love,’ to share ‘in a common witness in the world’ and ‘in Christ’s work of reconciliation,’ to ‘search for God’s children in the wilderness of this world’s temptations.’
These charges remain a sacred commitment for life, even after a priest retires from parish ministry. I retired from full-time ministry over two ago (31 March 2022) after my stroke that year, and I am still in the process of seeking Permission to Officiate (PTO). But I shall always remain a priest.
As I reflected today on the anniversaries of my ordination, I recalled too how my path to ordination began here in Lichfield 53 years ago when I was a 19-year-old, following very personal and special experiences in the chapel dedicated to Saint John the Baptist – the Chapel of Saint John’s Hospital, Lichfield – and in Lichfield Cathedral, both of which I return to constantly.
It was the summer of 1971, and although I was training to be a chartered surveyor with Jones Lang Wootton and the College of Estate Management at Reading University, I was also trying to become a freelance journalist, contributing features to the Lichfield Mercury, the Rugeley Mercury and the Tamworth Herald.
Late one sunny Thursday afternoon, after a few days traipsing along Wenlock Edge and through Shropshire, and staying at Wilderhope Manor and in Shrewsbury, I had returned to Lichfield.
I was walking from Birmingham Road into the centre of Lichfield, and I was more interested in an evening’s entertainment than prayer or religious life when I stumbled into that chapel out of curiosity. Not because I wanted to see the inside of an old church or chapel, but because I was attracted by the architectural curiosity of the outside of the building facing onto the street, with its Tudor chimney stacks and its Gothic chapel.
I still remember lifting the latch, and stepping down into the chapel. It was late in the afternoon, so there was no light streaming through the East Window. But as I turned towards the lectern, I was filled in one rush with the sensation of the light and the love of God.
This is not a normal experience for a young 19-year-old … certainly not for one who is focussing on an active social night later on, or on rugby and cricket in the weekend ahead.
But it was – and still is – a real and gripping moment. I have talked about this as my ‘self-defining moment in life.’ It still remains as a lived, living moment.
Waiting for the mid-day Eucharist in Lichfield Cathedral this afternoon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2024)
My first reaction was to make my way on down John Street, up Bird Street and Beacon Street and into the Cathedral Close and Lichfield Cathedral. There I slipped into the choir stalls, just in time for Choral Evensong.
It was a tranquil and an exhilarating experience, all at once. But as I was leaving, a residentiary canon shook my hand … I think he was Canon John Yates (1925-2008), then the Principal of Lichfield Theological College (1966-1972) and later Bishop of Gloucester and Bishop at Lambeth. He amusingly asked me whether a young man like me had decided to start going back to church because I was thinking of ordination.
All that in one day, on that one summer afternoon.
The west front of Lichfield Cathedral this afternoon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2024)
However, I took the scenic route to ordination. I was inspired by the story of Gonville ffrench-Beytagh (1912-1991), which was beginning to unfold at the time. He was then the Dean of Saint Mary’s Cathedral, Johannesburg, and facing trial when he opened his doors to black protesters who were being rhino-whipped by South African apartheid police on the steps of his cathedral.
My new-found adult faith led me to a path of social activism, campaigning on human rights, apartheid, the arms race, and issues of war and peace. Meanwhile, I moved on in journalism, first to the Wexford People and eventually becoming Foreign Desk Editor of The Irish Times.
While I was working as a journalist, I also completed my degrees in theology, at the Irish School of Ecumenics and Trinity College Dublin in 1984 and at the Kimmage Mission Institute and Maynooth in 1987. In the back of my mind, that startling choice I was confronted with after evensong in Lichfield Cathedral 53 years ago was gnawing away in the back of my mind.
Letters of ordination as priest by Archbishop Walton Empey
Of course, I was on the scenic route to ordination. A long and scenic route, from the age of 19 to the age of 48 … almost 30 years: I returned to study theology at the Church of Ireland Theological College (CITC, now CITI) in 1999, I was ordained deacon on 25 June 2000 and I was ordained priest on 24 June 2001, the Feast of the Birth of Saint John the Baptist.
Since then, my ordained ministry has included two years as an NSM curate in Whitechurch Parish, Rathfarnham (2000-2002), while I continued to work as Foreign Desk Editor of The Irish Times; four years working with mission agencies and as a part-time lecturer in the Church of Ireland Theological College (2002-2006); 11 years on the staff of the Church of Ireland Theological College or Institute as Director of Spiritual Formation, college chaplain, and then Lecturer in Anglicanism, Liturgy, Church History (2006-2017), when I was also an adjunct assistant professor in Trinity College Dublin (2011-2017) and a canon of Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin (2008-2017); and five years in west Limerick and north Kerry in the Diocese of Limerick and Killaloe (now Tuam, Limerick and Killaloe) as priest-in-charge of the Rathkeale and Kilnaughtin Group of Parishes, Precentor of Saint Mary's Cathedral, Limerick, Saint Flannan’s Cathedral, Killaloe, Co Clare and Saint Brendan’s Cathedral, Clonfert, Co Galway, and Director for Education and Training (2017-2022).
That ministry also included school and hospital chaplaincy, membership of the General Synod and various church commissions and committees, mission agency visits to Egypt, China, Hong Kong, Italy, the Vatican, Romania, Hungary and Finland, and six years as a trustee of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel). There were additional studies at the Institute for Orthodox Christian Studies and Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge, and the Institutum Liturgicum, based at the Benedictine Study and Arts Centre in Ealing Abbey and KU Leuven.
Archbishop Walton Empey’s inscription on the Bible he gave to me on my ordination to the priesthood in 2001
I had started coming to Lichfield as a teenager because of family connections with the area around Lichfield and Tamworth. The traditions of the chapel in Saint John's Chapel subtly grew on me and became my own personal expression of Anglicanism, while and the liturgical traditions of Lichfield Cathedral nurtured my own liturgical spirituality.
That bright summer evening left me open to the world, with all its beauty, all its problems and its promises.
The chapel in Saint John’s Hospital and Lichfield Cathedral remain my twin spiritual homes, and I returned to both again today (24 June 2024).
As priests, we normally celebrate the anniversary of our ordination to the priesthood and reflect on it sacramentally. However, I still await PTO in a new diocese and I have found unexpected restrictions on celebrating this meaningful day.
This continues to be trying at a personal level, and I held these emotions and feelings in my heart at the mid-day Eucharist and Evening Prayer in Lichfield Cathedral today, as I knelt in prayer in the chapel of Saint John’s Hospital earlier in the day, and at the Parish Eucharist in Saint Mary and Saint Giles Church in Stony Stratford yesterday (23 June 2024).
I remembered too how I was in Holy Trinity Church, Old Wolverton, on this day last year (24 June 2023) when the Revd Francesca Vernon celebrated her first Mass following her ordination.
It has been a day for walks around Stowe Pool and Minster Pool, through the streets of Lichfield, along Beacon Street, and a walk out into the countryside along Cross in Hand Lane after a pleasant late lunch in the Hedgehog Vintage Inn at the corner of Stafford Road.
When I get home to Stony Stratford later this evening, I shall have a quiet celebration of the Eucharist. This has been a day to remind myself that I remain a priest forever, and to remind myself where this journey or pilgrimage began 53 years ago.
Saint John the Baptist depicted in a window in the Chapel of Saint John’s Hospital, Lichfield (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2024)
24 June 2023
Daily prayers in Ordinary Time
with USPG: (27) 24 June 2023
Afternoon light in the Chapel the Hospital of Saint John Baptist without the Barrs, Lichfield … a calling to a journey that continues 52 years later (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Patrick Comerford
This is the Feast of the Birthday of Saint John the Baptist (24 June 2023). Before the day begins, I am taking some time for prayer, reading and reflection, remembering that I was ordained priest 22 years ago on this day, 24 June 2001, and that tomorrow is the anniversary of the day I was ordained deacon 23 years ago (25 June 2000).
Over these weeks after Trinity Sunday, I have been reflecting each morning in these ways:
1, Looking at relevant images or stained glass window in a church, chapel or cathedral I know;
2, the Gospel reading of the day in the Church of England lectionary;
3, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary.
However, I am interrupting that theme this morning to reflect on these 23 years of ordained ministry, to give thanks, to pray, to read, to think and to give thanks.
With Archbishop Walton Empey at my ordination as priest in Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin, on 24 June 2001, and (from left) the Revd Tim Close and the Revd Avril Bennett (Photograph: Valerie Jones, 2001)
I was ordained priest 22 years ago today, on the Feast of the Birth of Saint John the Baptist [24 June 2001], and deacon 23 years ago tomorrow, on 25 June 2000.
The Birth of Saint John Baptist (24 June) is one of the few birthdays of a saint commemorated in the Church Calendar.
Bishops, in the charge to priests at their ordination, call us to ‘preach the Word and to minister his (God’s) holy sacraments.’ But the bishop also reminds us to be ‘faithful in visiting the sick, in caring for the poor and needy, and in helping the oppressed,’ to ‘promote unity, peace, and love,’ to share ‘in a common witness in the world’ and ‘in Christ’s work of reconciliation,’ to ‘search for God’s children in the wilderness of this world’s temptations.’
These charges remain a sacred commitment for life, even after a priest retires from parish ministry. I retired from full-time ministry almost 15 months ago (31 March 2022) after my stroke last year, and I am in the process of seeking Permission to Officiate (PTO). But I shall always remain a priest.
As I reflect this morning on the anniversaries of my ordination, I recall too how my path to ordination began 52 years ago when I was a 19-year-old in Lichfield, following very personal and special experiences in a chapel dedicated to Saint John the Baptist – the Chapel of Saint John’s Hospital, Lichfield – and in Lichfield Cathedral, both of which I returned to in recent weeks.
It was the summer of 1971, and although I was training to be a chartered surveyor with Jones Lang Wootton and the College of Estate Management at Reading University, I was also trying to become a freelance journalist, contributing features to the Lichfield Mercury and the Tamworth Herald. Late one sunny Thursday afternoon, after a few days traipsing along Wenlock Edge and through Shropshire, and staying at Wilderhope Manor, I had returned to Lichfield.
I was walking from Birmingham Road into the centre of Lichfield, and I was more interested in an evening’s entertainment when I stumbled into that chapel out of curiosity. Not because I wanted to see the inside of an old church or chapel, but because I was attracted by the architectural curiosity of the outside of the building facing onto the street.
I still remember lifting the latch, and stepping down into the chapel. It was late afternoon, so there was no light streaming through the East Window. But as I turned towards the lectern, I was filled in one rush with the sensation of the light and the love of God.
This is not a normal experience for a young 19-year-old … certainly not for one who is focussing on an active social night later on, or on rugby and cricket in the weekend ahead.
But it was – and still is – a real and gripping moment. I have talked about this as my ‘self-defining moment in life.’ It still remains as a lived, living moment.
My first reaction was to make my way on down John Street, up Bird Street and Beacon Street and into Lichfield Cathedral. There I slipped into the choir stalls, just in time for Choral Evensong.
It was a tranquil and an exhilarating experience, all at once. But as I was leaving, a residentiary canon shook my hand ... I think he was Canon John Yates (1925-2008), then the Principal of Lichfield Theological College (1966-1972) and later Bishop of Gloucester and Bishop at Lambeth. He amusingly asked me whether a young man like me had decided to start going back to church because I was thinking of ordination.
All that in one day, in one summer afternoon.
However, I took the scenic route to ordination. I was inspired by the story of Gonville ffrench-Beytagh (1912-1991), which was beginning to unfold at the time. He was then the Dean of Saint Mary’s Cathedral, Johannesburg, and facing trial when he opened his doors to black protesters who were being rhino-whipped by South African apartheid police on the steps of his cathedral.
My new-found adult faith led me to a path of social activism, campaigning on human rights, apartheid, the arms race, and issues of war and peace. Meanwhile, I moved on in journalism, first to the Wexford People and eventually becoming Foreign Desk Editor of The Irish Times.
While I was working as a journalist, I also completed my degrees in theology. In the back of my mind, that startling choice I was confronted with after evensong in Lichfield Cathedral was gnawing away in the back of my mind.
Of course, I was on the scenic route to ordination. A long and scenic route, from the age of 19 to the age of 48 … almost 30 years: I was ordained deacon on 25 June 2000 and priest on 24 June 2001, the Feast of the Birth of Saint John the Baptist.
I had started coming to Lichfield as a teenager because of family connections with the area. But the traditions of that chapel subtly grew on me and became my own personal expression of Anglicanism; and the liturgical traditions of Lichfield Cathedral nurtured my own liturgical spirituality.
That bright summer evening left me open to the world, with all its beauty and all its problems.
The chapel in Saint John’s Hospital and Lichfield Cathedral remain my twin spiritual homes, and I returned to both again two months ago (24 April 2023).
As priests, we normally celebrate the anniversary of our ordination to the priesthood and reflect on it sacramentally. However, I still await PTO in a new diocese and I have found unexpected restrictions on celebrating this meaningful day. This continues to be trying at a personal level, and so it was good last week while I was in Dublin (16 June 2023) to return to Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin, where I was ordained. I am looking forward to being in Holy Trinity Church, Old Wolverton, tomorrow morning (25 June 2023), when the Revd Francesca Vernon celebrates her first Mass following her ordination to the priesthood later today. Both are reminders to me that I remain a priest forever.
Letters of ordination as priest by Archbishop Walton Empey
Luke 1: 57-66, 80 (NRSVA):
57 Now the time came for Elizabeth to give birth, and she bore a son. 58 Her neighbours and relatives heard that the Lord had shown his great mercy to her, and they rejoiced with her. 59 On the eighth day they came to circumcise the child, and they were going to name him Zechariah after his father. 60 But his mother said, ‘No; he is to be called John.’ 61 They said to her, ‘None of your relatives has this name.’ 62 Then they began motioning to his father to find out what name he wanted to give him. 63 He asked for a writing-tablet and wrote, ‘His name is John.’ And all of them were amazed. 64 Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue freed, and he began to speak, praising God. 65 Fear came over all their neighbours, and all these things were talked about throughout the entire hill country of Judea. 66 All who heard them pondered them and said, ‘What then will this child become?’ For, indeed, the hand of the Lord was with him.
80 The child grew and became strong in spirit, and he was in the wilderness until the day he appeared publicly to Israel.
Archbishop Walton Empey’s inscription on the Bible he gave to me on my ordination to the priesthood in 2001
Today’s Prayer:
The theme this week in ‘Pray With the World Church,’ the Prayer Diary of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel), has been ‘The snowdrop that never bloomed.’ This theme was introduced on Sunday.
The Prayer in the USPG Prayer Diary today (24 June 2023, Birth of John the Baptist) invites us to pray:
Let us give thanks for the life and ministry of Saint John the Baptist, who prepared the way for Jesus.
Collect:
Almighty God,
by whose providence your servant John the Baptist
was wonderfully born,
and sent to prepare the way of your Son our Saviour
by the preaching of repentance:
lead us to repent according to his preaching
and, after his example,
constantly to speak the truth, boldly to rebuke vice,
and patiently to suffer for the truth’s sake;
through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord,
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.
Post Communion:
Merciful Lord,
whose prophet John the Baptist
proclaimed your Son as the Lamb of God
who takes away the sin of the world:
grant that we who in this sacrament
have known your forgiveness and your life-giving love
may ever tell of your mercy and your peace;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Yesterday’s reflection
Continued tomorrow
The entrance to the Hospital of Saint John Baptist without the Barrs, Lichfield … opening the doors to a journey that has continued for 52 years (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition copyright © 1989, 1995, National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. http://nrsvbibles.org
Patrick Comerford
This is the Feast of the Birthday of Saint John the Baptist (24 June 2023). Before the day begins, I am taking some time for prayer, reading and reflection, remembering that I was ordained priest 22 years ago on this day, 24 June 2001, and that tomorrow is the anniversary of the day I was ordained deacon 23 years ago (25 June 2000).
Over these weeks after Trinity Sunday, I have been reflecting each morning in these ways:
1, Looking at relevant images or stained glass window in a church, chapel or cathedral I know;
2, the Gospel reading of the day in the Church of England lectionary;
3, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary.
However, I am interrupting that theme this morning to reflect on these 23 years of ordained ministry, to give thanks, to pray, to read, to think and to give thanks.
With Archbishop Walton Empey at my ordination as priest in Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin, on 24 June 2001, and (from left) the Revd Tim Close and the Revd Avril Bennett (Photograph: Valerie Jones, 2001)
I was ordained priest 22 years ago today, on the Feast of the Birth of Saint John the Baptist [24 June 2001], and deacon 23 years ago tomorrow, on 25 June 2000.
The Birth of Saint John Baptist (24 June) is one of the few birthdays of a saint commemorated in the Church Calendar.
Bishops, in the charge to priests at their ordination, call us to ‘preach the Word and to minister his (God’s) holy sacraments.’ But the bishop also reminds us to be ‘faithful in visiting the sick, in caring for the poor and needy, and in helping the oppressed,’ to ‘promote unity, peace, and love,’ to share ‘in a common witness in the world’ and ‘in Christ’s work of reconciliation,’ to ‘search for God’s children in the wilderness of this world’s temptations.’
These charges remain a sacred commitment for life, even after a priest retires from parish ministry. I retired from full-time ministry almost 15 months ago (31 March 2022) after my stroke last year, and I am in the process of seeking Permission to Officiate (PTO). But I shall always remain a priest.
As I reflect this morning on the anniversaries of my ordination, I recall too how my path to ordination began 52 years ago when I was a 19-year-old in Lichfield, following very personal and special experiences in a chapel dedicated to Saint John the Baptist – the Chapel of Saint John’s Hospital, Lichfield – and in Lichfield Cathedral, both of which I returned to in recent weeks.
It was the summer of 1971, and although I was training to be a chartered surveyor with Jones Lang Wootton and the College of Estate Management at Reading University, I was also trying to become a freelance journalist, contributing features to the Lichfield Mercury and the Tamworth Herald. Late one sunny Thursday afternoon, after a few days traipsing along Wenlock Edge and through Shropshire, and staying at Wilderhope Manor, I had returned to Lichfield.
I was walking from Birmingham Road into the centre of Lichfield, and I was more interested in an evening’s entertainment when I stumbled into that chapel out of curiosity. Not because I wanted to see the inside of an old church or chapel, but because I was attracted by the architectural curiosity of the outside of the building facing onto the street.
I still remember lifting the latch, and stepping down into the chapel. It was late afternoon, so there was no light streaming through the East Window. But as I turned towards the lectern, I was filled in one rush with the sensation of the light and the love of God.
This is not a normal experience for a young 19-year-old … certainly not for one who is focussing on an active social night later on, or on rugby and cricket in the weekend ahead.
But it was – and still is – a real and gripping moment. I have talked about this as my ‘self-defining moment in life.’ It still remains as a lived, living moment.
My first reaction was to make my way on down John Street, up Bird Street and Beacon Street and into Lichfield Cathedral. There I slipped into the choir stalls, just in time for Choral Evensong.
It was a tranquil and an exhilarating experience, all at once. But as I was leaving, a residentiary canon shook my hand ... I think he was Canon John Yates (1925-2008), then the Principal of Lichfield Theological College (1966-1972) and later Bishop of Gloucester and Bishop at Lambeth. He amusingly asked me whether a young man like me had decided to start going back to church because I was thinking of ordination.
All that in one day, in one summer afternoon.
However, I took the scenic route to ordination. I was inspired by the story of Gonville ffrench-Beytagh (1912-1991), which was beginning to unfold at the time. He was then the Dean of Saint Mary’s Cathedral, Johannesburg, and facing trial when he opened his doors to black protesters who were being rhino-whipped by South African apartheid police on the steps of his cathedral.
My new-found adult faith led me to a path of social activism, campaigning on human rights, apartheid, the arms race, and issues of war and peace. Meanwhile, I moved on in journalism, first to the Wexford People and eventually becoming Foreign Desk Editor of The Irish Times.
While I was working as a journalist, I also completed my degrees in theology. In the back of my mind, that startling choice I was confronted with after evensong in Lichfield Cathedral was gnawing away in the back of my mind.
Of course, I was on the scenic route to ordination. A long and scenic route, from the age of 19 to the age of 48 … almost 30 years: I was ordained deacon on 25 June 2000 and priest on 24 June 2001, the Feast of the Birth of Saint John the Baptist.
I had started coming to Lichfield as a teenager because of family connections with the area. But the traditions of that chapel subtly grew on me and became my own personal expression of Anglicanism; and the liturgical traditions of Lichfield Cathedral nurtured my own liturgical spirituality.
That bright summer evening left me open to the world, with all its beauty and all its problems.
The chapel in Saint John’s Hospital and Lichfield Cathedral remain my twin spiritual homes, and I returned to both again two months ago (24 April 2023).
As priests, we normally celebrate the anniversary of our ordination to the priesthood and reflect on it sacramentally. However, I still await PTO in a new diocese and I have found unexpected restrictions on celebrating this meaningful day. This continues to be trying at a personal level, and so it was good last week while I was in Dublin (16 June 2023) to return to Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin, where I was ordained. I am looking forward to being in Holy Trinity Church, Old Wolverton, tomorrow morning (25 June 2023), when the Revd Francesca Vernon celebrates her first Mass following her ordination to the priesthood later today. Both are reminders to me that I remain a priest forever.
Letters of ordination as priest by Archbishop Walton Empey
Luke 1: 57-66, 80 (NRSVA):
57 Now the time came for Elizabeth to give birth, and she bore a son. 58 Her neighbours and relatives heard that the Lord had shown his great mercy to her, and they rejoiced with her. 59 On the eighth day they came to circumcise the child, and they were going to name him Zechariah after his father. 60 But his mother said, ‘No; he is to be called John.’ 61 They said to her, ‘None of your relatives has this name.’ 62 Then they began motioning to his father to find out what name he wanted to give him. 63 He asked for a writing-tablet and wrote, ‘His name is John.’ And all of them were amazed. 64 Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue freed, and he began to speak, praising God. 65 Fear came over all their neighbours, and all these things were talked about throughout the entire hill country of Judea. 66 All who heard them pondered them and said, ‘What then will this child become?’ For, indeed, the hand of the Lord was with him.
80 The child grew and became strong in spirit, and he was in the wilderness until the day he appeared publicly to Israel.
Archbishop Walton Empey’s inscription on the Bible he gave to me on my ordination to the priesthood in 2001
Today’s Prayer:
The theme this week in ‘Pray With the World Church,’ the Prayer Diary of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel), has been ‘The snowdrop that never bloomed.’ This theme was introduced on Sunday.
The Prayer in the USPG Prayer Diary today (24 June 2023, Birth of John the Baptist) invites us to pray:
Let us give thanks for the life and ministry of Saint John the Baptist, who prepared the way for Jesus.
Collect:
Almighty God,
by whose providence your servant John the Baptist
was wonderfully born,
and sent to prepare the way of your Son our Saviour
by the preaching of repentance:
lead us to repent according to his preaching
and, after his example,
constantly to speak the truth, boldly to rebuke vice,
and patiently to suffer for the truth’s sake;
through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord,
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.
Post Communion:
Merciful Lord,
whose prophet John the Baptist
proclaimed your Son as the Lamb of God
who takes away the sin of the world:
grant that we who in this sacrament
have known your forgiveness and your life-giving love
may ever tell of your mercy and your peace;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Yesterday’s reflection
Continued tomorrow
The entrance to the Hospital of Saint John Baptist without the Barrs, Lichfield … opening the doors to a journey that has continued for 52 years (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition copyright © 1989, 1995, National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. http://nrsvbibles.org
24 June 2022
Praying with the Psalms in Ordinary Time:
24 June 2022 (Psalm 121)
‘I lift up my eyes to the hills; from where is my help to come?’ (Psalm 121: 1) … snow on the Pyrenees (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Patrick Comerford
In the Calendar of the Church, we are in Ordinary Time, but today the church celebrates the Feast of the Birth of John the Baptist. Today also marks the anniversary of my ordination as priest 21 years ago on 24 June 2001 by Archbishop Walton Empey in Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin.
Before today begins, I am taking some time this morning to continue my reflections drawing on the Psalms.
In my blog, I am reflecting each morning in this Prayer Diary in these ways:
1, Short reflections on a psalm or psalms;
2, reading the psalm or psalms;
3, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary.
Psalm 121:
Psalm 121 is the second of a series of 15 short psalms (Psalm 120-134) known as the ‘Songs of Ascents.’ These psalms begin with the Hebrew words שיר המעלות (Shir Hama’a lot). In the slightly different numbering system in the Greek Septuagint and the Latin Vulgate, this is counted as Psalm 120. It is sometimes known by its Latin opening words, Levavi oculus.
Many scholars say these psalms were sung by worshippers as they ascended the road to Jerusalem to attend the three pilgrim festivals. Others say they were sung by the Levite singers as they ascended the 15 steps to minister at the Temple in Jerusalem.
The Mishnah notes the correspondence between the 15 songs and the 15 steps between the men’s court and the women’s courtyards in the Temple. A Talmudic legend says King David composed or sang the 15 songs to calm the rising waters at the foundation of the Temple.
One view says the Levites first sang the Songs of Ascent at the dedication of Solomon’s Temple during the night of 15 Tishri 959 BCE. Another study suggests they were composed for a celebration after Nehemiah’s rebuilding of the walls of Jerusalem in 445 BCE. Others suggest they may originally have been songs sung by the exiles returning from Babylon ascending to Jerusalem, or individual poems later collected together and given the title linking them to pilgrimage after the Babylonian captivity.
These psalms are cheerful and hopeful, and they place an emphasis on Zion. They were suited for being sung because of their poetic style and the sentiments they express. They are brief, almost like epigrams, and they are marked by the use of a keyword or repeated phrase that serves as a rung on which the poem ascends to its final theme.
Psalm 121 is one of the great expressions of trust in God’s protection, often recited in times of trouble. The Hebrew word sh-m-r, ‘guard, protect,’ appears six times in this short psalm.
I try to imagine the writer of Psalm 121 setting out as a pilgrim on a journey or pilgrimage to the hill country, perhaps to Mount Zion and the Temple in Jerusalem, perhaps to hill country where earlier people imagined pagan gods were dwelling.
As he looks up to the hills, he asks himself, perhaps rhetorically, ‘from where is my help to come?’
He then answers his own question: his help comes from God, the creator.
He then hears another voice, perhaps a priest in the Temple, tell him of God’s protection of his people: God is always vigilant in protecting the pilgrims’ path, protecting them along the way against the sun and inclement weather, by day and by night, protecting them against all evil, not only through their own lives, but ‘from this time forth for evermore.’
Yosef Karduner sings his classic song ‘Shir Lamaalot’ (Psalm 121), with Ari Goldwag at a benefit concert in 2018
Psalm 121 (NRSVA):
A Song of Ascents.
1 I lift up my eyes to the hills—
from where will my help come?
2 My help comes from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.
3 He will not let your foot be moved;
he who keeps you will not slumber.
4 He who keeps Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
5 The Lord is your keeper;
the Lord is your shade at your right hand.
6 The sun shall not strike you by day,
nor the moon by night.
7 The Lord will keep you from all evil;
he will keep your life.
8 The Lord will keep
your going out and your coming in
from this time on and for evermore.
Inside the Chapel of Saint John’s Hospital, Lichfield, last week … today is the Feast of the Birth of Saint John the Baptist (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2022)
Today’s Prayer:
The theme this week in the prayer diary of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel) is the Swarupantor programme in the Church of Bangladesh. This theme was introduced on Sunday.
Friday 24 June 2022 (The Birth of John the Baptist):
The USPG Prayer invites us to pray today in these words:
Today we remember the birth of John the Baptist. Let us give thanks for his preaching and witness.
Yesterday’s reflection
Continued tomorrow
Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition copyright © 1989, 1995, National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. http://nrsvbibles.org
Patrick Comerford
In the Calendar of the Church, we are in Ordinary Time, but today the church celebrates the Feast of the Birth of John the Baptist. Today also marks the anniversary of my ordination as priest 21 years ago on 24 June 2001 by Archbishop Walton Empey in Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin.
Before today begins, I am taking some time this morning to continue my reflections drawing on the Psalms.
In my blog, I am reflecting each morning in this Prayer Diary in these ways:
1, Short reflections on a psalm or psalms;
2, reading the psalm or psalms;
3, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary.
Psalm 121:
Psalm 121 is the second of a series of 15 short psalms (Psalm 120-134) known as the ‘Songs of Ascents.’ These psalms begin with the Hebrew words שיר המעלות (Shir Hama’a lot). In the slightly different numbering system in the Greek Septuagint and the Latin Vulgate, this is counted as Psalm 120. It is sometimes known by its Latin opening words, Levavi oculus.
Many scholars say these psalms were sung by worshippers as they ascended the road to Jerusalem to attend the three pilgrim festivals. Others say they were sung by the Levite singers as they ascended the 15 steps to minister at the Temple in Jerusalem.
The Mishnah notes the correspondence between the 15 songs and the 15 steps between the men’s court and the women’s courtyards in the Temple. A Talmudic legend says King David composed or sang the 15 songs to calm the rising waters at the foundation of the Temple.
One view says the Levites first sang the Songs of Ascent at the dedication of Solomon’s Temple during the night of 15 Tishri 959 BCE. Another study suggests they were composed for a celebration after Nehemiah’s rebuilding of the walls of Jerusalem in 445 BCE. Others suggest they may originally have been songs sung by the exiles returning from Babylon ascending to Jerusalem, or individual poems later collected together and given the title linking them to pilgrimage after the Babylonian captivity.
These psalms are cheerful and hopeful, and they place an emphasis on Zion. They were suited for being sung because of their poetic style and the sentiments they express. They are brief, almost like epigrams, and they are marked by the use of a keyword or repeated phrase that serves as a rung on which the poem ascends to its final theme.
Psalm 121 is one of the great expressions of trust in God’s protection, often recited in times of trouble. The Hebrew word sh-m-r, ‘guard, protect,’ appears six times in this short psalm.
I try to imagine the writer of Psalm 121 setting out as a pilgrim on a journey or pilgrimage to the hill country, perhaps to Mount Zion and the Temple in Jerusalem, perhaps to hill country where earlier people imagined pagan gods were dwelling.
As he looks up to the hills, he asks himself, perhaps rhetorically, ‘from where is my help to come?’
He then answers his own question: his help comes from God, the creator.
He then hears another voice, perhaps a priest in the Temple, tell him of God’s protection of his people: God is always vigilant in protecting the pilgrims’ path, protecting them along the way against the sun and inclement weather, by day and by night, protecting them against all evil, not only through their own lives, but ‘from this time forth for evermore.’
Yosef Karduner sings his classic song ‘Shir Lamaalot’ (Psalm 121), with Ari Goldwag at a benefit concert in 2018
Psalm 121 (NRSVA):
A Song of Ascents.
1 I lift up my eyes to the hills—
from where will my help come?
2 My help comes from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.
3 He will not let your foot be moved;
he who keeps you will not slumber.
4 He who keeps Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
5 The Lord is your keeper;
the Lord is your shade at your right hand.
6 The sun shall not strike you by day,
nor the moon by night.
7 The Lord will keep you from all evil;
he will keep your life.
8 The Lord will keep
your going out and your coming in
from this time on and for evermore.
Inside the Chapel of Saint John’s Hospital, Lichfield, last week … today is the Feast of the Birth of Saint John the Baptist (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2022)
Today’s Prayer:
The theme this week in the prayer diary of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel) is the Swarupantor programme in the Church of Bangladesh. This theme was introduced on Sunday.
Friday 24 June 2022 (The Birth of John the Baptist):
The USPG Prayer invites us to pray today in these words:
Today we remember the birth of John the Baptist. Let us give thanks for his preaching and witness.
Yesterday’s reflection
Continued tomorrow
Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition copyright © 1989, 1995, National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. http://nrsvbibles.org
23 June 2022
21 years in priestly
ministry and my scenic
route to ordination
Patrick Comerford
I was ordained priest 21 years ago tomorrow, on the Feast of the Birth of Saint John the Baptist [24 June 2001], and deacon 22 years ago on 25 June 2000.
The Birth of Saint John Baptist (24 June) is one of the few birthdays of a saint commemorated in the Book of Common Prayer (see pp 20-21).
Bishops, in the charge to priests at their ordination, call us to ‘preach the Word and to minister his (God’s) holy sacraments.’ But the bishop also reminds us to be ‘faithful in visiting the sick, in caring for the poor and needy, and in helping the oppressed,’ to ‘promote unity, peace, and love,’ to share ‘in a common witness in the world’ and ‘in Christ’s work of reconciliation,’ to ‘search for God’s children in the wilderness of this world’s temptations.’
These charges remain a sacred commitment for life, even after a priest retires from parish ministry. I retired from full-time ministry almost three months ago (31 March 2022), and I am in process of seeking Permission to Officiate (PTO), I shall always remain a priest.
As I reflect this week on the anniversaries of my ordination, I recall too how my path to ordination began 51 years ago when I was a 19-year-old in Lichfield, following very personal and special experiences in a chapel dedicated to Saint John the Baptist – the Chapel of Saint John’s Hospital, Lichfield – and in Lichfield Cathedral, both of which I returned to last week.
It was the summer of 1971, and although I was training to be a chartered surveyor with Jones Lang Wootton and the College of Estate Management at Reading University, I was also trying to become a freelance journalist, contributing features to the Lichfield Mercury and the Tamworth Herald. Late one sunny Thursday afternoon, after a few days traipsing along Wenlock Edge and through Shropshire, and staying at Wilderhope Manor, I had returned to Lichfield.
I was walking from Birmingham Road into the centre of Lichfield, and I was more interested in an evening’s entertainment when I stumbled into that chapel out of curiosity. Not because I wanted to see the inside of an old church or chapel, but because I was attracted by the architectural curiosity of the outside of the building facing onto the street.
I still remember lifting the latch, and stepping down into the chapel. It was late afternoon, so there was no light streaming through the East Window. But as I turned towards the lectern, I was filled in one rush with the sensation of the light and the love of God.
This is not a normal experience for a young 19-year-old … certainly not for one who is focussing on an active social night later on, or on rugby and cricket in the weekend ahead.
But it was – and still is – a real and gripping moment. I have talked about this as my ‘self-defining moment in life.’ It still remains as a lived, living moment.
My first reaction was to make my way on down John Street, up Bird Street and Beacon Street and into Lichfield Cathedral. There I slipped into the choir stalls, just in time for Choral Evensong.
It was a tranquil and an exhilarating experience, all at once. But as I was leaving, a residentiary canon shook my hand. I think it was Canon John Yates (1925-2008), then the Principal of Lichfield Theological College (1966-1972) and later Bishop of Gloucester and Bishop at Lambeth. He amusingly asked me whether a young man like me had decided to start going back to church because I was thinking of ordination.
All that in one day, in one summer afternoon.
With Archbishop Walton Empey at my ordination as priest in Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin, on 24 June 2001, and (from left) the Revd Tim Close and the Revd Avril Bennett (Photograph: Valerie Jones, 2001)
However, I took the scenic route to ordination. I was inspired by the story of Gonville ffrench-Beytagh (1912-1991), which was beginning to unfold at the time. He was then then Dean of Saint Mary’s Cathedral, Johannesburg, and facing trial when he opened his doors to black protesters who were being rhino-whipped by South African apartheid police on the steps of his cathedral.
My new-found adult faith led me to a path of social activism, campaigning on human rights, apartheid, the arms race, and issues of war and peace. Meanwhile, I moved on in journalism, first to the Wexford People and eventually becoming Foreign Desk Editor of The Irish Times.
While I was working as a journalist, I also completed my degrees in theology. In the back of my mind, that startling choice I was confronted with after evensong in Lichfield Cathedral was gnawing away in the back of my mind.
Of course, I was on the scenic route to ordination. A long and scenic route, from the age of 19 to the age of 48 … almost 30 years: I was ordained deacon on 25 June 2000 and priest on 24 June 2001, the Feast of the Birth of Saint John the Baptist.
I had started coming to Lichfield as a teenager because of family connections with the area. But the traditions of that chapel subtly grew on me and became my own personal expression of Anglicanism; and the liturgical traditions of Lichfield Cathedral nurtured my own liturgical spirituality.
That bright summer evening left me open to the world, with all its beauty and all its problems.
The chapel in Saint John’s Hospital and Lichfield Cathedral remain my spiritual home, and I returned to both again last week (16-17 June 2022).
As priests, we normally celebrate the anniversary of our ordination to the priesthood and reflect on it sacramentally. However, as I await PTO in a new diocese I am finding unexpected restrictions on celebrating this meaningful day tomorrow. This is trying at personal level, and so it was good to visit Lichfield last week and to be reminded that I remain a priest forever.
Letters of ordination as priest by Archbishop Walton Empey
The Collect (the Birth of Saint John the Baptist):
Almighty God,
by whose providence your servant John the Baptist was wonderfully born,
and sent to prepare the way of your Son our Saviour,
by the preaching of repentance:
Lead us to repent according to his preaching,
and, after his example, constantly to speak the truth,
boldly to rebuke vice, and patiently to suffer for the truth’s sake;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Archbishop Walton Empey’s inscription on the Bible he gave to me on my ordination to the priesthood in 2001
24 June 2021
Opening the doors to
priestly ministry and
a journey of 50 years
Saint John the Baptist as a child with his mother Saint Elizabeth … a stained-glass window in Saint Mary’s Church, Dingle, Co Kerry (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2021)
Patrick Comerford
Thursday 24 June 2021
The Birth of Saint John the Baptist
11 a.m.: The Festal Eucharist, Saint Mary’s Church, Askeaton, Co Limerick.
The Readings: Isaiah 40: 1-11; Psalm 85: 7-13; Luke 1: 57-66, 80.
Saint John the Baptist (right) with the Virgin Mary and Christ in a stained glass window in Saint Mary’s Church, Lichfield … the births of these three alone are celebrated in the Church Calendar (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
May I speak to you in the name of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen
Saint John the Baptist, in many ways, is the bridge between the old and the new, between the stories of the Prophets and the Gospel stories.
Most saints are commemorated in the Church Calendar on days that are supposed to be the anniversaries of their death.
Three feasts alone commemorate the birth of Biblical figures: the Birth of Saint John the Baptist (24 June), the Birth of the Blessed Virgin Mary (8 September), and the Incarnation of Christ, or Christmas Day (25 December).
Saint Luke’s Gospel takes a full chapter before the evangelist gets to the story of Christ’s birth in Bethlehem. Saint Matthew’s Gospel introduces its account of Christ’s ministry by telling us first the story of Saint John the Baptist. Saint Mark begins his Gospel with the appearance of Saint John the Baptist. And the first person we meet in Saint John’s Gospel is Saint the Baptist.
But Saint Luke is alone in telling the story of Elizabeth’s pregnancy and the birth of Saint John the Baptist.
I was ordained priest 20 years ago today, on the Feast of the Birth of Saint John the Baptist [24 June 2001], and deacon 21 years ago tomorrow [25 June 2000].
Bishops, in their charge to priests at their ordination, call us to ‘preach the Word and to minister his (God’s) holy sacraments.’ But the bishop also reminds us to be ‘faithful in visiting the sick, in caring for the poor and needy, and in helping the oppressed,’ to ‘promote unity, peace, and love,’ to share ‘in a common witness in the world’ and ‘in Christ’s work of reconciliation,’ and to ‘search for God’s children in the wilderness of this world’s temptations.’
As I reflect on these anniversaries this morning, I recall too how my path to ordination began 50 years ago when I was a 19-year-old in Lichfield, following very personal and special experiences in a chapel dedicated to Saint John the Baptist – the Chapel of Saint John’s Hospital, Lichfield.
It was the summer of 1971, and although I was training to be a chartered surveyor with Jones Lang Wootton and the College of Estate Management at Reading University, I was also trying to become a freelance journalist, contributing features to the Lichfield Mercury. Late one sunny Thursday afternoon, after a few days in the countryside in Shropshire, I had returned to Lichfield.
I was walking from Birmingham Road into the centre of Lichfield, and I was more interested in an evening’s entertainment when I stumbled into that chapel out of curiosity. Not because I wanted to see the inside of an old church or chapel, but because I was attracted by the architectural curiosity of the outside of the building facing onto the street.
I still remember lifting the latch, and stepping down into the chapel. It was late afternoon, so there was no light streaming through the East Window. But as I turned towards the lectern, I was filled in one rush with the sensation of the light and the love of God.
This is not a normal experience for a young 19-year-old … certainly not for one who is focussing on an active social night later on, or on rugby and cricket in the weekend ahead.
But it was – and still is – a real and gripping moment. I have talked about this as my ‘self-defining moment in life.’ It still remains as a lived, living moment.
My first reaction was to make my way on down John Street, up Bird Street and Beacon Street and into Lichfield Cathedral. There I slipped into the choir stalls, just in time for Choral Evensong.
It was a tranquil and an exhilarating experience, all at once. But as I was leaving, a residentiary canon shook my hand. I think it was Canon John Yates (1925-2008), then the Principal of Lichfield Theological College (1966-1972) and later Bishop of Gloucester and Bishop at Lambeth. He amusingly asked me whether a young man like me had decided to start going back to church because I was thinking of ordination.
All that in one day, in one summer afternoon.
However, I took the scenic route to ordination. I was inspired by the story of Gonville ffrench-Beytagh (1912-1991), who was then then Dean of Saint Mary’s Cathedral, Johannesburg, and facing trial after he opened his cathedral doors to black protesters who being rhino-whipped by South African apartheid police on the cathedral steps.
My new-found faith led me to a path of social activism, campaigning on human rights, apartheid, the arms race, and issues of war and peace. Meanwhile, I moved on in journalism from freelance contributions to the Lichfield Mercury, first to the Wexford People and eventually becoming Foreign Desk Editor of The Irish Times.
While I was working as a journalist, I also completed my degrees in theology. In the back of my mind, that startling choice I was confronted with after evensong in Lichfield Cathedral was gnawing away in the back of my mind.
Of course, I was on the scenic route to ordination. A long and scenic route, from the age of 19 to the age of 48 … almost 30 years: I was ordained deacon on 25 June 2000 and priest on this day, 24 June 2001, the Feast of the Birth of Saint John the Baptist.
I return to Lichfield regularly, usually two, three or more times a year, and slip into that chapel quietly when I get off the train. That chapel has remained my spiritual home. I had started coming to Lichfield as a teenager because of family connections with the area. But the traditions of that chapel subtly grew on me and became my own personal form of Anglicanism; and the liturgical traditions of Lichfield Cathedral nurtured my own liturgical spirituality.
That bright summer evening left me open to the world, with all its beauty and all its problems.
As priests, we normally celebrate the anniversary of our ordination to the priesthood and reflect on it sacramentally. But the Covid-19 pandemic brought unexpected restrictions on this meaningful day last year, and I never got back to Lichfield last year either.
It is good to celebrate the beginnings of priestly ministry 20 years ago on this day, and it is good to promptings to priestly ministry heard 50 years ago on a summer afternoon in 1971. And it is good to be reminded this morning that all ministry and all our service to God, like the ministry and message of Saint John the Baptist, begins at an early stage, far earlier than we recognise, that God calls us from birth and even before that.
And so, may all we think, say and do be to the praise, honour and glory of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.
Letters of ordination as priest by Archbishop Walton Empey
Luke 1: 57-66, 80 (NRSVA):
57 Now the time came for Elizabeth to give birth, and she bore a son. 58 Her neighbours and relatives heard that the Lord had shown his great mercy to her, and they rejoiced with her.
59 On the eighth day they came to circumcise the child, and they were going to name him Zechariah after his father. 60 But his mother said, ‘No; he is to be called John.’ 61 They said to her, ‘None of your relatives has this name.’ 62 Then they began motioning to his father to find out what name he wanted to give him. 63 He asked for a writing-tablet and wrote, ‘His name is John.’ And all of them were amazed. 64 Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue freed, and he began to speak, praising God. 65 Fear came over all their neighbours, and all these things were talked about throughout the entire hill country of Judea. 66 All who heard them pondered them and said, ‘What then will this child become?’ For, indeed, the hand of the Lord was with him.
Archbishop Walton Empey’s inscription on the Bible he gave to me on my ordination to the priesthood in 2001
Liturgical colour: White
The Collect of the Day:
Almighty God,
by whose providence your servant John the Baptist
was wonderfully born,
and sent to prepare the way of your Son our Saviour
by the preaching of repentance:
lead us to repent according to his preaching
and, after his example,
constantly to speak the truth, boldly to rebuke vice,
and patiently to suffer for the truth’s sake;
through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord.
Introduction to the Peace:
We are fellow-citizens with the saints
and the household of God,
through Christ our Lord,
who came and preached peace to those who were far off
and those who are near: (Ephesians 2: 19, 17).
Preface:
In the saints
you have given us an example of godly living,
that, rejoicing in their fellowship,
we may run with perseverance the race that is set before us,
and with them receive the unfading crown of glory.
The Post Communion Prayer:
Merciful Lord,
whose prophet John the Baptist
proclaimed your Son as the Lamb of God
who takes away the sin of the world:
grant that we who in this sacrament have known
your forgiveness and your life-giving love,
may ever tell of your mercy and your peace;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
The Blessing:
God give you the grace
to share the inheritance of Saint John the Baptist and of his saints in glory:
With Archbishop Walton Empey at my ordination as priest in Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin, on 24 June 2001, and (from left) the Revd Tim Close and the Revd Avril Bennett (Photograph: Valerie Jones, 2001)
Hymns:
6, Immortal, invisible, God only wise (CD 1)
126, Hark! a thrilling voice is sounding (CD 8)
The entrance to the Hospital of Saint John Baptist without the Barrs, Lichfield … opening the doors to a journey that has continued for 50 years (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition copyright © 1989, 1995, National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. http://nrsvbibles.org
Material from the Book of Common Prayer is copyright © 2004, Representative Body of the Church of Ireland.
Patrick Comerford
Thursday 24 June 2021
The Birth of Saint John the Baptist
11 a.m.: The Festal Eucharist, Saint Mary’s Church, Askeaton, Co Limerick.
The Readings: Isaiah 40: 1-11; Psalm 85: 7-13; Luke 1: 57-66, 80.
Saint John the Baptist (right) with the Virgin Mary and Christ in a stained glass window in Saint Mary’s Church, Lichfield … the births of these three alone are celebrated in the Church Calendar (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
May I speak to you in the name of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen
Saint John the Baptist, in many ways, is the bridge between the old and the new, between the stories of the Prophets and the Gospel stories.
Most saints are commemorated in the Church Calendar on days that are supposed to be the anniversaries of their death.
Three feasts alone commemorate the birth of Biblical figures: the Birth of Saint John the Baptist (24 June), the Birth of the Blessed Virgin Mary (8 September), and the Incarnation of Christ, or Christmas Day (25 December).
Saint Luke’s Gospel takes a full chapter before the evangelist gets to the story of Christ’s birth in Bethlehem. Saint Matthew’s Gospel introduces its account of Christ’s ministry by telling us first the story of Saint John the Baptist. Saint Mark begins his Gospel with the appearance of Saint John the Baptist. And the first person we meet in Saint John’s Gospel is Saint the Baptist.
But Saint Luke is alone in telling the story of Elizabeth’s pregnancy and the birth of Saint John the Baptist.
I was ordained priest 20 years ago today, on the Feast of the Birth of Saint John the Baptist [24 June 2001], and deacon 21 years ago tomorrow [25 June 2000].
Bishops, in their charge to priests at their ordination, call us to ‘preach the Word and to minister his (God’s) holy sacraments.’ But the bishop also reminds us to be ‘faithful in visiting the sick, in caring for the poor and needy, and in helping the oppressed,’ to ‘promote unity, peace, and love,’ to share ‘in a common witness in the world’ and ‘in Christ’s work of reconciliation,’ and to ‘search for God’s children in the wilderness of this world’s temptations.’
As I reflect on these anniversaries this morning, I recall too how my path to ordination began 50 years ago when I was a 19-year-old in Lichfield, following very personal and special experiences in a chapel dedicated to Saint John the Baptist – the Chapel of Saint John’s Hospital, Lichfield.
It was the summer of 1971, and although I was training to be a chartered surveyor with Jones Lang Wootton and the College of Estate Management at Reading University, I was also trying to become a freelance journalist, contributing features to the Lichfield Mercury. Late one sunny Thursday afternoon, after a few days in the countryside in Shropshire, I had returned to Lichfield.
I was walking from Birmingham Road into the centre of Lichfield, and I was more interested in an evening’s entertainment when I stumbled into that chapel out of curiosity. Not because I wanted to see the inside of an old church or chapel, but because I was attracted by the architectural curiosity of the outside of the building facing onto the street.
I still remember lifting the latch, and stepping down into the chapel. It was late afternoon, so there was no light streaming through the East Window. But as I turned towards the lectern, I was filled in one rush with the sensation of the light and the love of God.
This is not a normal experience for a young 19-year-old … certainly not for one who is focussing on an active social night later on, or on rugby and cricket in the weekend ahead.
But it was – and still is – a real and gripping moment. I have talked about this as my ‘self-defining moment in life.’ It still remains as a lived, living moment.
My first reaction was to make my way on down John Street, up Bird Street and Beacon Street and into Lichfield Cathedral. There I slipped into the choir stalls, just in time for Choral Evensong.
It was a tranquil and an exhilarating experience, all at once. But as I was leaving, a residentiary canon shook my hand. I think it was Canon John Yates (1925-2008), then the Principal of Lichfield Theological College (1966-1972) and later Bishop of Gloucester and Bishop at Lambeth. He amusingly asked me whether a young man like me had decided to start going back to church because I was thinking of ordination.
All that in one day, in one summer afternoon.
However, I took the scenic route to ordination. I was inspired by the story of Gonville ffrench-Beytagh (1912-1991), who was then then Dean of Saint Mary’s Cathedral, Johannesburg, and facing trial after he opened his cathedral doors to black protesters who being rhino-whipped by South African apartheid police on the cathedral steps.
My new-found faith led me to a path of social activism, campaigning on human rights, apartheid, the arms race, and issues of war and peace. Meanwhile, I moved on in journalism from freelance contributions to the Lichfield Mercury, first to the Wexford People and eventually becoming Foreign Desk Editor of The Irish Times.
While I was working as a journalist, I also completed my degrees in theology. In the back of my mind, that startling choice I was confronted with after evensong in Lichfield Cathedral was gnawing away in the back of my mind.
Of course, I was on the scenic route to ordination. A long and scenic route, from the age of 19 to the age of 48 … almost 30 years: I was ordained deacon on 25 June 2000 and priest on this day, 24 June 2001, the Feast of the Birth of Saint John the Baptist.
I return to Lichfield regularly, usually two, three or more times a year, and slip into that chapel quietly when I get off the train. That chapel has remained my spiritual home. I had started coming to Lichfield as a teenager because of family connections with the area. But the traditions of that chapel subtly grew on me and became my own personal form of Anglicanism; and the liturgical traditions of Lichfield Cathedral nurtured my own liturgical spirituality.
That bright summer evening left me open to the world, with all its beauty and all its problems.
As priests, we normally celebrate the anniversary of our ordination to the priesthood and reflect on it sacramentally. But the Covid-19 pandemic brought unexpected restrictions on this meaningful day last year, and I never got back to Lichfield last year either.
It is good to celebrate the beginnings of priestly ministry 20 years ago on this day, and it is good to promptings to priestly ministry heard 50 years ago on a summer afternoon in 1971. And it is good to be reminded this morning that all ministry and all our service to God, like the ministry and message of Saint John the Baptist, begins at an early stage, far earlier than we recognise, that God calls us from birth and even before that.
And so, may all we think, say and do be to the praise, honour and glory of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.
Letters of ordination as priest by Archbishop Walton Empey
Luke 1: 57-66, 80 (NRSVA):
57 Now the time came for Elizabeth to give birth, and she bore a son. 58 Her neighbours and relatives heard that the Lord had shown his great mercy to her, and they rejoiced with her.
59 On the eighth day they came to circumcise the child, and they were going to name him Zechariah after his father. 60 But his mother said, ‘No; he is to be called John.’ 61 They said to her, ‘None of your relatives has this name.’ 62 Then they began motioning to his father to find out what name he wanted to give him. 63 He asked for a writing-tablet and wrote, ‘His name is John.’ And all of them were amazed. 64 Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue freed, and he began to speak, praising God. 65 Fear came over all their neighbours, and all these things were talked about throughout the entire hill country of Judea. 66 All who heard them pondered them and said, ‘What then will this child become?’ For, indeed, the hand of the Lord was with him.
Archbishop Walton Empey’s inscription on the Bible he gave to me on my ordination to the priesthood in 2001
Liturgical colour: White
The Collect of the Day:
Almighty God,
by whose providence your servant John the Baptist
was wonderfully born,
and sent to prepare the way of your Son our Saviour
by the preaching of repentance:
lead us to repent according to his preaching
and, after his example,
constantly to speak the truth, boldly to rebuke vice,
and patiently to suffer for the truth’s sake;
through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord.
Introduction to the Peace:
We are fellow-citizens with the saints
and the household of God,
through Christ our Lord,
who came and preached peace to those who were far off
and those who are near: (Ephesians 2: 19, 17).
Preface:
In the saints
you have given us an example of godly living,
that, rejoicing in their fellowship,
we may run with perseverance the race that is set before us,
and with them receive the unfading crown of glory.
The Post Communion Prayer:
Merciful Lord,
whose prophet John the Baptist
proclaimed your Son as the Lamb of God
who takes away the sin of the world:
grant that we who in this sacrament have known
your forgiveness and your life-giving love,
may ever tell of your mercy and your peace;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
The Blessing:
God give you the grace
to share the inheritance of Saint John the Baptist and of his saints in glory:
With Archbishop Walton Empey at my ordination as priest in Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin, on 24 June 2001, and (from left) the Revd Tim Close and the Revd Avril Bennett (Photograph: Valerie Jones, 2001)
Hymns:
6, Immortal, invisible, God only wise (CD 1)
126, Hark! a thrilling voice is sounding (CD 8)
The entrance to the Hospital of Saint John Baptist without the Barrs, Lichfield … opening the doors to a journey that has continued for 50 years (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition copyright © 1989, 1995, National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. http://nrsvbibles.org
Material from the Book of Common Prayer is copyright © 2004, Representative Body of the Church of Ireland.
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